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inknopewetrust · 3 months ago

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𝐒𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫, 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐯𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞. [𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫] [𝐰𝐜: 𝟕𝐤]

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝟏𝟖+, 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐃𝐍𝐈, 𝐌𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐞𝐱. 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 [𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠], 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐯 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝, 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐭, 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚+ 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐧.

𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬: 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

You weren’t sure when you started to feel this way.

It ate at you—the sensation. Nipping at the bits of yourself that were far too obvious in a mirror. They rushed through you like you were a lamb for slaughter. It was often you wondered if all of those creatures you sought could feel it too, this vulnerability underneath a tough skin.

And you could see it too. In the mirror, passing a reflecting door or window, in the sunglasses of a friend. Every time your image reflected back to you, a wave of self-doubt washed over you.

It was debilitating and something you never voiced aloud. The thoughts simply ate away at you as the days passed on and the world unraveled with it.

Little help came when your daily return to safety came in the form of a mismatched bunker. In it, the glamorous common sections provided a bit of beauty while the corridors were bland and the rooms much more so. There was nothing there to make you feel pretty—let alone beautiful in such an ugly world.

When the bunker was quiet, those thoughts came alive.

Everyone had gone off for the day. It was one of those strange, sitting duck kind of days where there wasn’t a story to chase or evil lurking around the corner to seize a moment. It was quiet, content with whatever lull had formed for the time being. You were alone in your room flipping through an old book on werewolves that was quickly losing your interest.

For once, you just wanted a break to be normal. To feel normal and be normal without a fear of cosmic retribution for wanting to be someone other than what you had become. This… monster-hunting sidekick chick who feels a bit down and out about the cards life dealt her.

Dean and Sam weren’t on the same wavelength as you, you had imagined. They played off their content with this life as perfectly as anyone could.

A knock at your door interrupted your thoughts abruptly. It startled you. Shaking a little jump from your skin, you approached the door with caution as your knowledge had led you to believe you were alone.

But as you cracked open the door, it was painfully obvious you weren’t.

“Dean?”

He gave a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I thought you’d be—“

“I told Sam to go on his own,” he clarified. Sam went down to Wichita early that morning and with the roar of Baby, you had assumed Dean had tagged along.

“Oh.”

There was something more stirring in the air around your room. The internal self-loathing was misting and Dean’s presence was billowing. For you, all it took was one glance into his green eyes to fall into an abyss of him. Dean Winchester had girls falling to their knees, praying for a miracle that he’d notice them and fall in love with them and end up with them forever.

He never did but it was too notable to ignore.

He made your heart thump louder. The blood stirring the cauldron of doom inside, building a pool of sweat in your palms and your pupils to grow wider. He was a beautiful man—it was almost embarrassing to think that he’d pay more attention to you than he did.

And there was a scorned inside for the scattered moments he did make you feel something more.

It was on days like this: when everyone was gone and fate had found you alone together when something clicked into place, drawing you together like moths to a flame and touch was a burning relief.

Having sex with Dean was an action that lit up the pitting feelings of doubt.

Every time your shirt came off—hideous.

Every time your pants came undone—ugly.

Every time he gave himself—unworthy.

And every time you let go—pathetic.

You took your bottom lip between your teeth and gnawed at it. Dean leaned against the frame but didn’t push. He never did.

“Why didn’t you go?”

He shrugged his shoulders. In his own bashful way, he looked down at his shoes.

“Didn’t want to, I guess,” he said. “Got better things to do than go see a city I’ve seen a hundred times before.”

There was more to do there. There were more girls there to choose from.

“Well it’s not anymore exciting here,” your eyes gave an unfortunate admission. “Just me.”

“You’re plenty exciting,” Dean lifted his head with a scoff. “I figured if you stayed behind then at least it be worth staying behind for.”

When he said phrases like that, it was so casual. It made you roll your eyes in a shallow disbelief he was flagrant with saying your worth anything. Wichita had more than you could ever offer.

You rested the side of your body on the door and clung to the doorknob on the other side tightly.

“I’m afraid you might be wrong on that one.”

Dean’s eyes flinched in curiosity. They searched your face unabashedly for answers it was unwilling to give.

“Why?” He asked. “We never get any time to ourselves. It’s… nice for a change, yeah?”

“Sure,” you agreed. “I just don’t think I’m worth staying behind for.”

He let out a laugh. No smile, just an amused laugh at the suggestion. You weren’t sure if you should feel miffed or reassured.

“Spend five hours in the car with Sam on a Saturday or spend the day with you? I’d much rather be here.”

His honesty was endearing. It was far different from the man you met so many years ago. He had grown comfortable, willing, in that time and if you thought hard on it, it was generally only around you.

For Dean, being vulnerable was cracking his soul open. It was as debilitating as your inability to see yourself as valuable was. But he was comfortable here, alone, and he was content in letting it bleed from every part of him.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Is there a plan I am unaware of?”

Your day was to be spent flipping through books and taking notes of what resolutions could help you all the most.

Dean shrugged again and kicked his foot out slightly. You knew what he wanted, hell, you wanted it too but you couldn’t feel that inside of you.

“I don’t know,” he played. “That’s really up to you.”

Ball, court.

“There’s no one here,” Dean reassured you. You could be loud. You could do what you wanted. You could take your time.

“I know,” you nodded your head. You twisted the knob on the other side of the door.

“We don’t have to,” he backed up with words. The last thing Dean wanted you to feel for him is resentment for propositioning you. “It’s alright. I can… I can,” he cleared his throat, “take care of myself.”

“No,” you said quicker than you meant to. “No.”

“No?”

“You don’t have to take care of it, Dean.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded at him as the tone shifted. In your hearts, the beating anticipating was in your throats. You could feel it in the jittering movement of your fingers and toes and the insatiable appetite that manifested inside.

The door you were holding on to opened slightly to gain him entry. He took the signal, brushing past you and not feeling cautious when his hand came to rest on your side as he pushed by.

It dawned on you as he entered that you’d never had sex in your room. It was always Dean’s and the one, singular occasion he caught you in the library on a day like this one and ate you out between the bookshelves.

You shut the door behind you as he stepped into the room and took it in differently than before. He’s been in it, sure, but when the circumstances change, everything changes too.

“You remodel?” He joked, pointing around the room that looked identical to all the others. “Looks nice.”

“Thanks,” you smiled. Leaning against the door, you folded your hands behind your back. “It was a real task, you know? All the painting and laying the wood.”

He nodded with a hum. He patrolled the space before shrugging off his flannel that rested atop a t-shirt.

You weren’t sure what he wanted exactly but you were hesitant to approach him.

Sitting, facing your bed from its place on the floor was a mirror. And you’d be fucking damned if you watched yourself fuck Dean Winchester through your reflection.

It might be the death of you.

And you didn’t want to curse Dean with that memory.

He kicked off his shoes without instruction. Pieces of himself began to unshed before you. First the shirt, then the shoes. His hands went to his belt, flicking it open and unraveling itself in swift motions that your own hands had learned to do before.

Dean didn’t look at you, he didn’t ask you to join him.

His hands went to the bottom of his shirt and as he lifted it up and over his head, you weren’t shameful to ogle him. That was why he was here—for you to feel him, touch him, worship him in ways he wouldn’t get elsewhere.

There were plenty of other girls in Wichita.

He tossed his shirt to join the flannel before looking at you. Dean held out his hand to you, beckoning you.

“Come here,” he said softly. It could have been enough for you at one time, but it wasn’t today.

You shook your head.

“You come to me.”

If you knew Dean correctly, he would, and he did.

Even in your doubts, having Dean near you was comfort. His eyes drank you in. Completely encapsulated by you and only you and he felt free in that space. He was giving and grateful.

So, he stood toe to toe with you. One of his hands creeped up your slides and slotted into the space where your hands created an opening to the back of you. He silently begged for you to untangle your hands, taking one of them in his own as he allowed the position to draw himself closer.

He held on to you in two ways: against you, pressing you into the door as his nose knocked your own, and his and your intertwined hands pressing into your back. You used your free one to cup his face. You hummed in agreement. Dean tilted his head, breathing in deeply as the skin of your face grazed his own. He could play a long time. The hand you let linger on his cheek brushed along the sides of his neck, folding itself around his back and gripping onto his opposite shoulder. His skin was hot to the touch. Dean let his fingers detached from yours and he cupped at your ass to pull you closer. There was nowhere closer than him. Flush against his body, feeling everything but the blood rushing through him and he soaked in the staggered breaths of anticipation.

You tipped your head away from his to look in his eyes.

His short stubble was tough under your palm. Nothing, however, could detract you from the way his eyes bore into you. He had lovely lashes, fluttering and romantic compared to his outward appearance of “tough man.” They complimented the way his eyes changed from welcome to conversation to lust.

Maybe it wasn’t love, but it was enough for now.

“How’s this gonna work?” You asked him, breath fanning his face.

“I’ve got a few ideas,” he mumbled. Eyes hooded, trapped on your lips as they wet themselves. “But we’ve got time. We can go slow.

You nodded like he read your mind. Slow, steady, different from other times.

“I don’t need slow,” you murmured. He gripped your ass harder than before, pushing you against him before letting go and running his hand smoothly over the rump.

“But I’ve got too many clothes on.”

“You’re damn right about that, sweetheart.”

Dean needs no true instructions.

Even in your wallowing pitiful despair of self-destruction, as long as you truly couldn’t see yourself everything would be fine. It would be fine. Dean’s hands roamed your body freely with the invitation. Hands large and free, they begged to grip and squeeze what they could but settled on unraveling the fruits of the goal. With every piece of clothes that came undone and piled themselves onto the floor at your feet, you spied Dean’s eyes grow shades of green. Each deeper than before—tantalizing from opportunity and wolfish in a hunt.

His hands met the tops of your bottoms, trading the top of it with his fingers as they grazed the skin of your stomach. You laid your head back against the door, admiring the way he had the smallest sign of a smile on his lips as he looked at you. Something glimmered, something gleamed in his eyes when he looked back. Dean leaned in, planting a light kiss on the edge of your lip but not on them before falling to his knees.

Clad yet in his beltless jeans, Dean ran his hands over the curve of your waist and down your legs. The agony of time made your heart thump. Thump, thump, thump against your ribcage and into your mind and into the place where his head was mere inches from. You loved the way Dean made you feel—you just hated how you felt on your own.

The muscles of his shoulders worked elegantly as he removed your bottoms and re-ran his hands upwards along your skin. Light goosebumps formed along his trail and he smiled, letting out the lightest laugh in admiration.

Dean’s thumbs found themselves on the edges of your underwear and he paused.

“Like I said,” he was gruff, “we’ve got all the time in the world. So, how do you want me?”

There were few men in the world who would offer themselves to a woman. Be freely tasked with whatever she wanted, not he.

But again, you hated decision making. From dinners to motels to books to people, you hated being the shot caller.

“Use your imagination.” You settled on. “I’m all yours, Dean.”

And since he was already on his knees, he supposed he’d start there.

Dean bent an index finger and rested it at the top of your underwear before dragging it downward, slowly watching your eyes and chest as he inched closer and closer to your core. He didn’t stagger as he crossed a threshold of your covered clit and continued further as he wrist turned and his palm rested against the front of you, his fingers pressing into you from above you panties.

He rubbed his hand back and forth, arching his fingers to press inwards but not moving the Fabric away but caressing it into you. Dean shifted his hand upwards and outstretched a finger on your clothed clit to massage small circles on the bundle of nerves. His opposite shoulder knocked into your leg, opening the space for him as on of your hands shot to a dresser top beside the door and the other rested on his head.

He could feel your hand falling with every ministration. He turned his head in the direction of your hand, the heat of your hand on his face pulsing as the blood was rushing.

“Are you gonna keep fingering me like a middle school boy or really make me feel something, Winchester?” You looked down at him.

He stopped moving his finger.

“Well you told me to use my imagination, sweetheart. You gotta be more specific than that.”

“I want you to eat me out,” you clarified. “I want you to use your fingers and then I want you to fuck me before everyone else comes home.”

Dean’s eyes lit up. A smirk, followed by a “yes ma’am” gave him the orders he needed.

In your imagination, you thought it’d be here by the door. He’d eat you out from the floor and then fuck you against the door but for some, god-fucking-awful reason you can’t place, Dean got up from the floor and walked toward the bed.

His reflection of his back toward the bed reminded you of what you didn’t want to see in it—you.

Dean took a second to undo his jeans and remove himself from them. He was strained already against his briefs but didn’t care to take care of himself first or make it the “problem” needing to be fixed.

And like before, he extended his hand out to you.

“Come on,” he called out and it was hard to ignore the order itself.

A wave of nerves washed over you and made you cold. The sudden realization that you were nearly nude, he too, and your brash words of sex were all that was on the table became too much of a reality. His outstretched hand remained cold.

If you hadn’t known better, you could have assumed a poltergeist had appeared in the room. The sudden chill, the bucket of water dropping on reality bursting a bubble of pretend before it was too late. You were self-conscious and it began to leak like a sieve through the floorboards and walls and all it took was for Dean to truly, really look at you to see that something had changed drastically in the minutes it took for him to move, remove his pants, and hold out his hand.

The romance, the lust, or the sex had died in the moment.

Your hand grasped the edge of the dresser tightly and you couldn’t bare to look at Dean. A shameful, whimpering dog-like mentality was embarrassing and you didn’t fathom it would take on this large of a life. It encapsulated your wants and your needs and was now preventing you from finishing a job that you’d become all too familiar with and it should have been easy.

The mirror reflected those thoughts.

“Hey,” Dean closed his hand and his brows furrowed. “Hey.”

He received no response, just a near frozen you. You shook your head no.

“W-what’s wrong?” He questioned in a state of confusion. Things had changed so quickly. You clicked your tongue, shutting your eyes tightly before opening them again and looking anywhere but him and to the left.

“It’s…” you staggered your words. “It’s, I just, I thought that… well…”

You laughed incredulously at yourself. The hand once gripping the dresser flew to your face in embarrassment and over your eyes.

“Fuck,” you muttered.

Dean could only reiterate his “hey” over and over as he approached you calmly. He shushed in reassurance as he tried to remove the hand that covered your eyes.

“No, no, Dean—I’m fine, really, it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Dean said quietly. “What’s going on, hm? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you let him move the hand from your eyes yet you couldn’t look at him. “Nothings wrong I just… I just needed a second, that’s all.”

He didn’t believe you.

He never did when times like these flared up. Whether it be about what he knew or didn’t, any time where you, Sam, or anyone else had a sliver of doubt or injury or sadness, Dean would stop his world to help even if it hurt his own.

“Sweetheart, I think we both know that isn’t true.”

“I’m good. Really.”

He studied you for a time. Just looking, watching the way the muscles in your face twitched, the lack of contact you gave back to him. Dean was far from stupid even if he had his moments; he could see through the veil.

“Then come on,” he proposed. “Let’s just sit down and we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.” You knew he wouldn’t force you to.

Dean made the slightest move to step backwards and your eyes flashed in the direction of the mirror.

“It’s ok!” Goddamn. How many times were you going to say it?

You wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him back. “It’s alright!”

Dean shook his head.

“No, it’s not.”

“We can just do it here,” you suggested. It wasn’t exactly the romantic afternoon he had planned out in his head. “Right here.”

“Against the door?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. Your gaze popped again in the direction of the mirror.

Dean caught it this time.

“The doors fine with me,” you restated assuredly. Dean nodded but didn’t make a move to finish what he started before.

Instead, he lifted one of his hands and cupped your face gently. His green eyes bore into you like lasers, prodding for answers he wasn’t sure he’d get but attempting to discover them nonetheless. There was a slice of pity, a lingering disappointment he couldn’t mask but above all else, Dean wanted you to be truthful to him.

He’d spent forever being lied to. Being told that there was only one path to getting what people needed out of life and listening to the directions of people who didn’t truly care what happened to him nor what he wanted. In a small corner of his own personal heaven, he wanted it to be nothing short of perfect even if perfection could never be attained.

And lies were always the cause of its destruction.

“What’s wrong with the bed, Sweetheart?”

You shook your head.

“This ain’t like a… monster-under-the-bed kind of situation, is it?” Dean joked. You scoffed, a smile cracking itself on your face and he could feel the way it grew underneath his hand.

“No,” you laughed. “There’s nothing in here except you and me.”

“Good,” he said lowly. “Then what’s wrong with that mirror on the wall?”

The smile on your face fell.

“Th-the mirror?”

Dean turned his body slightly to open the pathway to the mirror. Floor length and bolted into the wall sat a mirror across from the bed. It was there when you all arrived at this destination and you had never bothered to move it, only growing to hate its location when you got up, got dressed, and when you met the reflection on accident when you were halfway to self pleasure.

“You keep looking at it like it might come alive.”

“There’s nothing in the mirror.”

No real demons, at least.

“Then come to the bed,” Dean offered again. “I’m not twenty-five anymore.”

The ground was too hard even if the idea enticed him. He’d work you to your orgasm and then need help getting up—one too many throw downs with evil and the world catches up with you.

“We could always go to your room,” you suggested.

Dean’s hand caressed your face. You knew he knew you were avoiding something larger than just a room.

“What’s wrong with the mirror, baby?”

Ah shit. Baby.

“Dean—“ you started in argument against him but he wouldn’t let you. He wasn’t letting this go until it was like all other mysteries in his life and it was solved.

“No,” he argued back. “No, and you know you’re not telling the truth. What’s wrong with the mirror?”

“Nothings wrong with the mirror!”

“Yes there is,” his voice was getting tougher, rough around the edges in frustration with not you, but the thoughts swirling within you.

“No—“

“Yes!”

He let go of your face and grabbed your hand.

“Dean—“

Dean took one step toward the mirror and you broke the façade.

“Fine!” You grunted, tugging your hand out of his grasp. “Fine! It’s the fucking mirror, okay?”

“Well—“

“I don’t like it! It’s at the end of my fucking bed and I can’t stand looking in it.”

Dean’s eyes shifted again to a slight sadness and you wanted to throw a brick at the glass.

“Sw-“

You cut him off. “All I see when I look in that reflection is someone who’s… disgusting. I just… I can’t look at myself anymore and I certainly don’t want to watch myself doing something I don’t deserve to do.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Dean wanted to reset the day. “You’re not disgusting, sweetheart. Why did you say that, wh—“

“You could have gone with Sam and had someone else for the day, Dean. Someone pretty and sexy and fits all the right boxes for you. I don’t know why you didn’t go.”

“I don’t want them” he said your name firmly. “I stayed because I want you. I don’t want them. They don’t know me or what I like and I chose to be here.”

“Because it’s easy or because it’s convenient?”

“Because it’s perfect.”

“It’s not perfect, Dean.”

Dean stood there aloof in his briefs. Across from him, you were the most vulnerable he’d ever seen you and you were beautiful. There was nothing that caused him to feel repulsed or rejected. He was encapsulated by a glow he’d grown fond of and wanted to be held in. You were gorgeous, underwear and all, and nothing you’d say was going to change his mind.

“To me it is.”

Dean’s head tipped to the side in observance again. “I don’t know what you see—I won’t know what you see. But to me, I see someone who checks all my boxes and it takes nothing else.”

“I can’t look at myself.”

“What if I showed you someone else?”

It didn’t sound right to you. Dean could see it on your face as the confusion fizzled the upset and he wanted to walk it back to clarify yet didn’t.

“You’re not ask-“

“No one else is here,” he shook his head as he reproached you. He grasped one of your hands and hesitantly brought you to the mirror.

“But I want to show you someone else.”

You wanted to protest against him so loudly but when he stopped you in front of the mirror and stood behind you, the words died on your lips. You saw the same person.

The vision in front of you was lumpy and frumpy and the choice of underwear was quickly becoming something to regret.

“Who do you see?” Dean asked you. One of his hands rested on your shoulder, digging into the spot where your neck and shoulder met. The other held onto your own and intertwined your fingers gently.

“I have a feeling you won’t like what I say.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“I see… an unfortunate woman. She’s not a supermodel and she’s not a celebrity. So… she’s not the standard of beauty. Her hair’s not done and her makeup is well… not ready for the magazines and she chose the wrong day to wear this color bra.”

“Anything else?” Dean listened.

“The man behind her is too handsome for her. He deserve someone who matches what he gives and that’s not the person in the mirror.”

Dean let that sit in the air for a moment. The seconds felt heavy and you wanted to look away from yourself and crawl under the covers and never see the light of day again.

“Can I tell you what I see?” Dean asked you and you shrugged.

“I can’t imagine it’d be any different than me.”

Dean cleared his throat and from his reflection, his eyes crawled along every inch of you that was exposed to him. You were under a microscope and he the scientist.

“I see my best friend,” he started and you knew you were quickly sinking. “I see a woman who is so strong and capable and caring and good. I see pretty hair and pretty eyes and maybe… maybe…the best lips in this bunker. But I may have to take that back when I look at myself.”

You squeezed his hand.

“I see a woman who has the most beautiful body.” He took the hand from your shoulder and slowly ran the backs of his fingers along your spine. “Every part of her distracts me. I catch myself starting at her when she’s not looking and I have to look away before she notices. Every color looks good on her and she looks the prettiest like this.”

“Anything else?” You said quietly.

Dean looked you in the eyes from the reflection. There were a million things he could say.

“How long do we have?” He laughed. The sound bounced off you; his chest vibrating against your back.

“I haven’t always been the best… anything… when it comes to women. But goddamn do you make me want to be someone else, sweetheart. Like maybe I could be a rock star and you can be the most devoted groupie or… or maybe I could be a firefighter and you can be a school teacher who can’t wait for me to get home.”

“I think you’re projecting, Dean,” you chuckled and he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, holding you tight against his bare chest.

“The woman I see in this mirror is perfect to me.”

“I wish she could see that for herself,” you said dejectedly.

“Then let me show her how,” he prompted. His mouth at the base of your ear, his breath was hot on the side of your face. “Let me show you how.”

“I do—“

He said your name strongly. “If you don’t face it, you won’t overcome it.”

A half a second you thought he might have read that from his Dad’s journal back in the day. Perhaps it was a statement he had grown up with but no matter that root, he sought the end to the cause.

“What were you thinking?”

“Nothing different from what you had said before,” Dean’s hands began to shift. They curved over your back and to the front of your body. You watched in the mirror was they traced along your sides and over your hips. The slow agony of his glide caught the fabric of your underwear and begged for them to be pulled away, but he let them remain.

“I’m going to eat you out, like you asked,” you caught his eyes in the mirror and blood rushed to your face. Cheeks hot and flustered, you can’t believe how blatant you had been before. “And then I’m going to fuck you like it’s our last night on this fucking earth, alright?”

“And what of the mirror?”

“You’re gonna watch yourself, us, through it from the bed.”

“I don’t know if I can do that, Dean.”

You panicked a little inside. But his hands kept roaming and his eyes were changing their shades again, and in it all, all you could feel was him. His hard body, his rough hands, the breath on your face, and words he spoke overtook the insecurities that plagued you.

“You can,” he assured. His long fingers played at the strap of your bra, inching it away from your shoulder and letting it slip down your arm.

“I know you can because you always listen to me,” he whispered in your ear. “So? What do you say?”

The same fingers that let the strap fall moved under your arm and around to the nearly exposed breast. His hand snaked around your body and up to cup the one breast before squeezing the flesh tightly. You shuddered a breath and he knew he had you.

Dean took your earlobe between his teeth and let go with a small ‘pop.’ His hand squeezed and soothed, the other sitting patiently at your hip. Fingers tugged at the exposed nipple and you watched it harden like magic in the mirror.

“I’m not doing anything until you tell me, baby.”

You met his eyes again.

“Fuck me, Dean.”

And he smiled into your neck.

There was something unexpectedly titillating watching Dean go down on you.

It was daunting at first. Dean had led you to the bed, sitting you on the end and crept up onto the mattress behind you. Your reflection stared back hauntingly—dreading yet curious as to what it may appear as in front of you. It was strange, watching Dean and feeling his touch but not truly looking into his eyes. His hands caressed your body and the seriousness of his need to prove your mind wrong was enough to challenge yourself.

He wanted to prove you wrong. Dean wanted to show you how beautiful you were in the throes of ultimate vulnerability and passion.

“Look,” he positioned your head to look in the mirror across the bed.

“I want you to keep looking, alright? Even when we move or I move you, I need you to keep looking.”

“What if I wa—“ You turned your head to the side to look at him but he took his hand and repositioned your head.

“What if I want to look at you?”

“I’m right here,” Dean looked at himself in the mirror. He puffed out his chest slightly, you biting your lip in his boyish confidence that never seemed to leave him.

You knew, however, how much Dean gave to everyone else. One day, you promised, you’d give Dean something he needed too.

“Now,” he rubbed the sides of your arms before moving out of the way and off the bed. “Lay down.”

“But—“

“I’ll tell you how to do it,” he dismissed.

You shimmed up the bed slightly and leaned back. Your back hit the mattress with the thud and you weren’t sure what to do with your hands, so you just folded them across your stomach. Dean scoffed and looked down at you to which your brows furrowed.

“What?” You questioned.

“You’re acting like you’ve never done this before.”

“Well,” you countered. “In a way I haven’t.”

“Yeah but we’ve done this before,” he made a gesture between the two of you with his finger. “Relax.”

You nodded your head and breathed in deeply. You had done this before. You had. He’s done it a hundred times and if you were counting, he actually liked doing it so it was more than a hundred times over the last few years.

Dean knocked his knee against yours, tipping his head in silent order to open them which you complied obediently with. Now, spread before him, your heart was racing.

“Sit up on your elbows.”

You did.

“When I get down,” Dean warned. “You’re gonna see yourself. And if you get too overwhelmed, you tell me and we stop.”

God, you loved him. You really did.

“Okay,” you said in a quiet nod.

Before you could back down, before he went down, he leaned across to you and kissed you gently on the lips.

“I mean it, yeah?”

You agreed. “Yeah.”

Dean hummed and kneeled on the floor against his better judgement. His hands that rested on your thighs went to your hips, catching the fabric between his palms and slowly, he pulled down your panties and helped remove them from your legs. Above his head, you could see yourself in the mirror—the most private part of you wholly covered by Dean’s head and the expanse of his back took up the rest of the space.

He lifted on your legs off the bed and onto his shoulder. He peppered a few scattered kisses on the inside of your thighs as he repositioned himself for the taking. You were right there, waiting. Dean’s own want was growing by the second and all he wanted to do was taste you.

He hooked his arm around your leg and brought his hand to your core, thumb pressing into you with a jolt. And then he pulled his head inwards. Painting a stripe with his tongue, that was all it took to let the fear escape your body.

Dean was at the alter of you; the reflection emboldened your acceptance of yourself and his actions that formed a deeper well within you. He kept going. His head moving, bobbing for every motion he made. His fingers pulled you open as his tongue painted pictures inside of you.

Each stoke of his tongue, of his fingers along the sides and his thumb pressing into your clit made the blood rush down. You throbbed, burning for something more as you watched nothing but the back of his head and the muscles of his back constrict with his ambition.

Dean watched you watch yourself. He was proud of you—how you didn’t truly watch him or fall to your back instead. You mewled, gasping with a jolt as he prompted himself to use his fingers more. He took it as a sign. Instead of palming himself on the outset of his briefs, he took his other hand and brought it to your pussy that beckoned it.

“You good baby?”

He moved the hand that was already there to your thigh and groped it. You split for a moment from the mirror to look at him. His cheeks were flush, chest laboring with a breathlessness he welcomed.

“Perfect. I’m perfect.”

He ran his tongue over his lips as he smiled and your heart skipped a beat.

“Damn right,” he encouraged.

You anticipated him to continue on with his mouth but he sat back on his knees on the floor. Straining in his briefs, Dean just looked at you before rising with a grunt and kneeling next to you on the bed.

“Sit up,” he pointed to the end of the bed and you did as told again.

“Wha-“

“Shh,” he hushed. He sat sideways next to you with one of his legs tucked under him. Dean’s hand reached out and rested on the space between your stomach and cunt and when you looked up, he clicked his tongue at you.

“Mirror,” he redirect you and suddenly, his fingers were inching lower and lower until they were meeting the wet remnants of his mouths product.

Your mouth fell open in the slightest; a rewarding breath escaped your lips as his finger, then two breeched you and met your warmth in an eager welcome. As he pumped his fingers in and out of you and gathered the wetness that built quickly, Dean’s forehead fell onto the top of your head and his body leaned into you.

With every staggered breath he was more rewarded. His fingers relished the sounds your pussy made as he sped up his wrist faster.

“Oh,” you barely mumbled out. “Fuck, Dean.”

Dean hummed and the rumble went through you. He kept his pace and you wanted to close your eyes, stall the feelings building inside of you but didn’t. You didn’t disobey his wants and efforts of helping you get over this self deprecation that was sealing fate before there was a chance to solve it.

“Dean,” you said again but not worried. He didn’t stop at his name.

His fingers curled inside of you, hitting the spot you ached for him to find without cause. The muscle in your leg jolted and your hand went to his arm, tightly holding on as the other dug into the sheets of your bed and formed new wrinkles in its wake.

The heat was fast in its approach. Screeching from an abyss of darkness to only be awakened by the light of him, your end was near. It was greedy to want it all the time yet Dean was more than willing to give forever if it meant he’d feel this way.

“Come on,” he egged you on as you clenched the two fingers. “Baby come on, I’ve got you.”

“F-fuck, Dean, I-Christ,” you writhed in pleasure. He was leaning against you and his eyes closed let the reflection before you come alive in more ways than one. He was all yours—not a single word or person or thing could change it. Completely and utterly devoted to you and for once, when you looked in the mirror, you felt beautiful.

Your breath hitched in your throat and there was little else you could say as the room was filled with nothing but your heavy breaths and the sick sounds of your pleasure.

Those sounds, the mirror, and Dean’s words were all it would take to send you over a ledge. The burning, bright light of relief was striking. It was blistering in its blaze and entirely too much to send words tumbling out of your lips. All you could do was dig your fingertips into his arm and watch your body twitch at the intensity.

It shook your legs; shoulders twitching with the muscles in your stomach convulsing. Dean slowed his fingers to a stop. He held them inside of you for a second before removing them as carefully as he could and he rested the hand above your knee. Your finish on his fingers wet your skin and brought a coolness that hadn’t been there before.

Dean pushed his head against yours. He opened his eyes and met yours face to face, not in the mirror.

As he hoped, there was something inside of yours that changed. There was no regret and the cruelty of your mind was the past for now—even if the evil crept in the shadows around the gleam that surrounded you now.

You were beautiful. You were perfect.

And if you couldn’t vocalize those words yourself, at least he knew you could see them.

“Did you see what I see?” He asked lowly. He wasn’t done with you yet.

“Yes,” you whispered. “I see it.”

“Good.”

“But I don’t want to look at me anymore.” Your eyes weren’t tortured. “I just want to look at you.”

When he fucked you into the mattress, you did. You took in him and only him and when everyone returned when the sun had long gone down, you felt anew when Dean glanced at you from across the table and that glow of renewal hadn’t left you.

As always, comments and reblogs encourage writers the most! I thank you for reading and I am so thankful you took the time out of your day to read what I’ve put out here. Thank you!

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #supernatural x reader #supernatural x you #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #supernatural #kinktober 2024 #kinktober

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shirefantasies · 6 months ago

Text

The Hobbit Characters + Pregnant Reader (Wife!Reader)

I just love fluff ok and, say it with me, I did this for LoTR 😁 (you can think of the older characters’ as being set when you guys are younger, not during book/film events 😊)

Warnings: conception mentions, some implications of infertility, pregnancy-related illness and symptoms, very long post 😂

Balin

✧ Five years. For five years you had tried. Six you and Balin had been married, happily as anything, but children never came. Your struggles had broken you down, leading you to try all the remedies well-meaning elders and healers alike recommended. Eat more good, strong foods, less of that greasy stuff. Drink this tea, it’s great for women! It’s only a bunch of tiny needles- the pain of birth will be worse anyway. Don’t be so active, let yourself relax for Mahal’s sake, girl! Remedy after remedy, you put your body through it all and put your hands up and prayed. Weeks passed and you had taken ill, attending the healers’ just to get something to ease your nausea, and that was when the questions began. Illness forgotten, you wandered in a grinning daze out of that hall and straight into your husband’s arms. When he chuckled and asked what this was all about, all you could do was snuggle into his chest deeper and whisper “It’s finally happened.”

✧ Such years leant of course to Balin being a bit extra protective of you. You often chastised him, good-naturedly of course, that he hovered so over you, and every time he would simply kiss you and say "That's right".

✧ It brought you both to tears when you began showing, when your condition had persisted long enough to be real, to last beyond the known months of danger. Forehead pressed against yours, your husband held you tightly and warmly for some amount of minutes you did not know, but minded not at all. Balin's words of love and reassurance were as music to your ears.

✧ Hormones confound you some days, pulling you from peace to ruin in mere moments, but Balin is always there with warm arms and wise words, reminding you that whatever you may think, you will never be alone.

✧ The one time during your entire pregnancy that you saw Balin cry was the day you brought home a tiny red coat that looked just like his and showed it to him with pride glowing in your eyes.

✧ He is so calm during all the worst sides of your condition, standing right by you through the good, the bad, and the ugly and dusting and cleaning you off each and every time. "We fought hard for this," he reminds you, "And I'll keep fighting with you every step of the way."

Dwalin

✧ You had wanted children all your life, certainly, and you'd seen Dwalin around them a few times, but what would he say? Your husband was a renowned warrior, hardened in the face of blood and steel and tolerant of no foolishness. But still he went soft as clay when his beloved wife fell into his arms. Thus that night you softened him up but good with all the great food and affection you could muster, so much that you had him remarking what a wonderful home he'd been blessed with. "And would you be willing to share it?" At that, your husband rose from his chair, hands tensing at his sides. "You don't mean-" "I do," you nodded. Without warning, you were swept up into Dwalin's arms, hoisted gently into the air with a giggle. "Just when I thought Mahal couldn't bless me any more! My beautiful wife, with child."

✧ Cue the two of you bickering back and forth like, well, a married couple, about who the child is going to look like. "I'll have 'em look just like you, thanks." "I for one relish in the thought of toting around a miniature Dwalin." "Come now," your husband teases back, running a hand over his shaven, tattooed head, "If they look like you they'll have better hair!"

✧ Dwalin has tiny wooden swords and axes made in time for your little arrivals, ensuring the axes match his to a tee.

✧ He sleeps flush against you now, head leaned against your growing belly and one hand firmly atop it like a lovely little line of defense.

✧ You have him absolutely wrapped around your finger, even more so now. Bat your eyelashes at him and make any request and he melts like butter. You’ll never want long for anything you crave!

✧ Admittedly he knows very little of a woman’s workings, but the moment he hears all your explanations he dubs you as great a warrior as he! “Beautiful as the stars and strong as the mountains to boot! That’s my girl.”

Thorin

✧ He has waited so long for this. So many years of this hanging pressure and yet when he has you by his side, all the feeling of necessity behind trying fades away. You two can simply enjoy life. So when you return to Thorin's side one day, eyes brimming with tears, all you say to him is "It's happened". And with that you see your king, your husband, collapse as if his whole body is sighing, pulling you into him like he needs you to breathe. One hand reaches up to hold the back of your head, gently caressing your hair.

✧ Vows every day that he will protect you both, be the father and husband you deserve, taking your hands in his and then leaning down to address both his queen and your child.

✧ Thorin also assures you that despite what any members of the court say, your new addition will be equally loved and equally worthy of the throne whether you welcome a son or a daughter. "All I wish is a healthy child with their mother's heart." "And their father's good looks," you tease in response, pulling your husband in for a kiss.

✧ You begin stealing his clothes, stating that his tunics are so much more comfortable than your dresses with an innocent bat of your eyelashes that has Thorin relenting every single time, heart rent at the way they begin fitting you tighter.

✧ You see a different side of Thorin in this stage of your marriage, one you’ll never complain about, not when he softens so, gazes down upon you with such love as he hovers over you, kissing your lips, your neck, your belly.

✧ There is no denying that you both glow during this time, pride and joy illuminating Thorin’s features right alongside the radiance of your childbearing state. Everyone stops you to say what a beautiful couple you are and you cannot help the flush of heat that rises to your face as Thorin thanks them and guides you away from the crowd, a protective hand on the small of your back

Oin

✧ Predicts it before you even realize because you’re exhibiting all the telltale symptoms; annoyed as you may be by his insistence that you are with child, what do you know? Oin is right. Oin is, unfortunately, also quite smug about this. Once the initial triumph wears off, though, he’s shouting for joy and crushing you with a hug!

✧ The absolute dream husband to have when you're with child, for he has worked taking care of countless dwarrowdams in your condition. He knows what you need. He understands. And most importantly, he does not judge.

✧ In fact, you two get a kick out of poking fun at the other husbands who roll their eyes at their wives' demands or take shots at their cravings because, frankly, that could never be you. "He doesn't know her body needs more iron!" "I bet he moans and groans about grabbing her a pillow, too."

✧ Having married such a well-known dwarrow, you’ll have all manner of strangers approaching you with congratulations that you reluctantly just accept, correctly assuming they’re patients of Oin’s that he’s proudly blabbed to.

✧ He’s always asking you to guess if you’re having a boy or a girl, insisting that “‘tis the mother’s intuition, after all.”

✧ You insist on remaining on your feet as long as possible, and your husband does not protest, knowing that exercise is good for the baby. That doesn’t mean he won’t be right behind you to catch you if you fall or check on your precious little bump, though, of course.

Gloin

✧ Not so subtle in his so-called 'baby fever', your husband has been going on and on about how his child will be his little flame, the apple of his eye, his world. You have no fear, then, sharing the news, in fact you amuse yourself by dropping your state in conversation like the plainest fact. "I'm glad you've got those new blankets, dear, what with the baby coming in winter and all," you told Gloin, taking a sip of your tea. Deafening is the only word you can use to describe the roar of celebration he gives, wonderfully bone-crushing and teeth-rattling your embrace and kiss.

✧ Tackles you to bed almost every night the first week, covering your cheeks and belly alike with kisses.

✧ Spends that very same time period sharing with absolutely any soul who even remotely listens that he’s going to be a father!

✧ Gloin is very insistent upon your care, even taking it upon himself to make your meals by hand. Which, suffice it to say, is a bit disastrous the first few times but he emerges triumphant in the end and succeeds in filling you with all the hearty things your budding dwarrowling needs!

✧ Being married to a dwarf means you have a husband who absolutely adores the extra pounds you put on and has no qualms about showing you in and out of the bedroom! Even just stopping by the market he’ll be wrapped around you.

✧ Encourages the baby every time they kick, shouting out praise of their strength while you tell him to cool it, all those kicks are going to you!

Bifur

✧ A large part of him thought that he would never be able to experience fatherhood. Not since the injury, and that had happened at such a young age. You cut right through that fear, assured Bifur that he would be an amazing father regardless of if he did some things differently. And that he would soon see, for your family would be growing early the next year.

✧ In all honesty, you feel blessed to have a husband who signs, for your baby will likely be able to communicate early! When you tell Bifur this he breaks out into tears, for what an angel you are to see the beauty in him. Every side of him. He promises to do the same.

✧ And make good on that does he! You will never want for love for even on your illest days Bifur is right by your side, his caresses gentle and speaking volumes of adoration.

✧ Absolutely adores jumping into the bath with you! His excuse being he has to help you and may as well rinse his beard off, but you can see how eager he is to run his hands over your hair and see the way your body relaxes at his cleansing touch. He wants nothing more than to feel useful, needed, and you assure him you cannot do this without him.

✧ Again and again, in fact, on the days when he stands behind you, holding up your burden and cheering you with little jokes and flirtation in Khuzdul even as you are overcome with exhaustion.

✧ Proudly tells everyone who will listen that he’s got a little warrior in there whenever the baby kicks!

Bofur

✧ You hadn’t exactly been trying. You hadn’t exactly been not trying, either. The news comes to you through a haze, muffled by the great rush of other thoughts bombarding your mind and sending your heart beating, but at their heart comes the image of Bofur holding a little one and bouncing them upon his knee and your chest flutters and soars. Your visit is completed all in smiles, and upon returning him to your husband’s questioning about the flu you’ve gone in for, you tell him it likely will not go away until the end of the year. “The end of the year? Why ever that long? I’ve never heard of a flu like that, not even-” “‘tisn’t a flu, my darling,” you smirk at him, “it’s a baby.” “A- you’re- we’re gonna have a-” Bofur is all agape, stepping closer and hovering his hands over your middle like he doesn’t want to grip you in a way that breaks you. “That all right?” You ask, half-teasing, for he has recently confided in you his envy of Bombur’s family. “All right? Song of my heart, I could kiss you!” “Well, what’s stopping you?”

✧ If you thought Bofur was affectionate before, well Mahal be with you, for you haven't seen anything yet! He falls even more in love with your body knowing it's carrying his and your child, hands nearly always holding or roaming you. When you're out and about, your husband usually has a hand at the small of your back, supporting the weight you carry as you walk and running soothingly up and down. Kisses all over your belly in private.

✧ This lends to how quick your husband is to reassure you on days you don't feel so friendly with your body, those times when you'd like nothing more than to shatter the looking-glass. "All I see," Bofur tells you one day, a hand on each of your shoulders as you peer together, "Is the most beautiful thing I've ever laid my lucky eyes upon, and she's not got an easy job. If I were her, I'd be proud of myself. Proud of making a comfortable home for our little one. And if I was her husband, why, I'd take her as she is right here and now! Right nice for me I am her husband, eh?"

✧ “Imagine havin’ a little girl.” Lying side by side, you heard Bofur’s wistful tone and felt a small smile creep onto your lips. “I’ll do her hair up in braids and tie them with ribbons. She’ll have all the pretty things she wants, because I have mine right here,” he adds, turning over to caress your belly and pull your lips into his.

✧ Marrying a toymaker comes with distinct perks: your husband crafts the most magnificent little wheeled contraptions and carven animals for your new addition! He spends hours carving and glazing them, and sometimes you catch him having fallen asleep at his workbench when you struggle to stay in dreamland, covering him up with a spare blanket.

✧ You worry because the baby doesn’t seem to move much, but Oin confirms everything seems to be going fine. “Your wee bairn just got this one’s personality, it seems!” He jokes, stabbing a mock-accusatory finger Bofur’s way.

Bombur

✧ A baker's dozen. For as long as you've known him, that's how many wee ones Bombur purported wanting. Thirteen more than most dwarves have, you always tease him, but in reality every time you see your sweet husband with children and hear him dream of a family your heart leaps. That is why the moment you take his hands and tell him it's come true is special, intimate, a quiet draw in and out of breath that has him sobbing joyously and nuzzling into your embrace with so much love your chest bursts from the flight of it.

✧ Sixth senses never seemed real to you until you became pregnant and it was like Bombur knew what you were craving and was making it before you could even say anything!

✧ Cannot keep away from you. Always wants to be kissing you and cupping your cheeks and holding your hands, just so so sweet!

✧ Bombur is so much more good-natured than you, for all the jokes about how you'll be as big as him soon have you swinging, but he just holds you back and laughs alongside them, saying he's looking forward to it with a twinkle in his eye.

✧ Literally baffled if you ever feel bad about your body; his legitimate confusion alone halfway snaps you out of the sad reverie, and all the following words about your beauty and your husband's appreciation of every inch does the rest.

✧ "You know I'll keep you safe, right? Both of you," he tells you one day, a hand resting upon your bump, "I may not be some great warrior, but Mahal help anyone who comes between us."

Dori

✧ From even before you were actually wed you knew that Dori would be an excellent father. Having taken care of his younger brothers from quite an early age, he had knowledge atop a naturally caring personality you fell for. Gentlemanly Dori waited with you, keeping chaste until after your wedding, but once it is official you know your news could come at any time and you accept that. On your one-year anniversary, in fact, your first gift to Dori is the tiniest bracelet of fine amber beads. “Does this mean…?” As soon as he sees you nod, Dori is taking you in his arms, cradling you gently as if you were made of fine porcelain and thrice as precious.

✧ Caring father-to-be. A little too caring. "If those are too heavy for you, I can carry them!" "They're just books, I'll be alright, Dori." "Oh, don't eat that, you got sick last time." "I haven't been sick in a month!" "That's a lot of steps, should I carry you?" "...Actually, sure."

✧ Always sleeps with his arm wrapped around your middle. No exceptions.

✧ Has every manner of tea and remedy you could desire on hand or otherwise purchases it. Same goes for supplies- Dori even found a ring-shaped cushion for you to lay on! He has your back for any ailment and is often there to make or apply your cure himself. After all, he wouldn't trust anyone else to do it!

✧ You love this dwarf with all your heart. He takes it upon himself to find dwarrowdams willing to let him practice changing diapers on their wee bairns and surprises you with this newfound skill when you return home one day!

✧ Dori’s love of the finer things absolutely carries over into his future fatherhood, as he has the loveliest little velvet clothes made and procures the dearest little bejeweled hairbrush. All in all, both of you amass far more than you need because any time you go out it inevitably devolves into you two clasping your joined hands between each other, gushing over all the wee things, and taking them home!

Nori

✧ He never thought he would get married at all, let alone have a family, but as time goes on the desire to continue his lineage and finally settle down takes hold. Then suddenly there he is desperately trying to seduce you into trying for a little one! It doesn't take long, not with his charm, until the day comes when you teasingly tell him that he got his way. Smirking until the realization takes hold of him, his arms are then snaking around your waist to pull you close.

✧ Always talking about how he's going to teach his little one everything he knows. When pressed about it, responds with such things as fighting and picking locks. His defense? "What if 'e gets stuck somewhere, or-"

✧ Impatient! "When am I gonna be able to feel 'em?" He asks, a hand upon your belly, which has yet to display any changes. "Not for another few months, Nori! I haven't even begun to show!"

✧ Hides things sometimes or puts them up places you can't go just so he can swoop in and help you, saving your day and pressing a kiss to your cheek as he tells you he can handle it, don't you worry your pretty little head.

✧ Nori always teases you when he pours himself a drink. "Bet you'd like some of this, huh? Not for three more months!" He chuckles. Your brows furrow. "Three months? What about when I'm feeding?" "What does tha- oh. Does that really-" "Yes, yes it does." "By the stars, I could have got my baby drunk!"

✧ Talks to the baby quite a bit, especially when he finally can feel the kicks. "Where you running off to, huh?" He chuckles, feeling the flutters against his hand pick up. "That's 'cause of me, isn't it? You hear me? That's right, it's your da. Can you believe it? Me, your da! I'll take good care of you, you hear?"

Ori

✧ "Ori, dear," you implored your husband, "Might you knit something for me?" Looking up from the scarf he'd just finished, Ori's eyes fell upon you and he gave that smile, the special one reserved just for you. "Of course. What would you like?" "A wee pair of booties," you replied, hands clasped and expression dreamy. "Who needs booties?" He asked, head cocked. "We will in the fall," you answered, stepping closer and resting a hand upon his. Ori's jaw dropped. "You... I... We-" Smile widening, you nodded. "I. You. We," you agreed.

✧ Nearly from the first day you know you are with child, Ori is rattling off names. After tossing out a great deal, he finally pauses and gives a sheepish apology. "I'm sorry, I suppose I've thought about this a lot," he confesses with a grin, "I just can't believe it's happening." Your hand joins with his, resting over your little bump. "Neither can I. It's like a dream."

✧ "So," you ask Ori one day, leaning your chin upon the couch where you'd lain, "What should our plan be for when my water breaks?" Your husband's brows furrow. "When your what?" "Oh, no," you mutter. Cue Ori spending his afternoon receiving a great multitude of lessons. What he got for being raised by other dwarf men, you suppose. "That really all happens to you?" He asks, gaping at you as though you came of the Valar themselves. "Yes, it does. Birth is a great deal of work. They don't just run on out, you know!" "Yes, I know. Of course I know." Ori's voice is faint; he excuses himself and you assume it's to faint or be sick, but about an hour later he returns bearing gifts. "I'm sorry I'm putting you through all that." "Sweetheart," you chuckle, cupping his cheek, "You know it takes two, right?" Your sweet husband reddened, but he nodded.

✧ Ori takes on almost all the cleaning himself- you haven't even asked! Finally curiosity gets the better of you and you inquire as to why he's gotten so into housekeeping. "Well, aren't you tired?" He asks simply, innocently, and you wonder how you got so lucky.

✧ He also knits far more than that pair of booties you requested- all three of you will have matching sweaters before your little one has arrived!

✧ Ori's favorite thing in the world is sitting with you in his lap, one hand cradling your growing bump and the other holding a book as you two take turns reading aloud, filling your cozy hollow with the sounds of voices your little one will come to love. The books are hand-drawn, written, and bound by him, of course!

Fili

✧ You two speak of little ones so much it borderline infuriates the others, Kili himself even bursting out in frustration one day at yet another interruption about tiny clothes, "Just get her pregnant already!" "Good idea. See you later," Fili replies, scooping you up and carrying you off bridal-style. "Wait, I- Damn, brother..." In reality, Fili just carried you around the corner and set you down while you two burst out laughing, but about a month later your tries were in fact successful!

✧ Honeyed words were no trouble for your husband before, but now? Praise falls endlessly from his lips. "Never did I think you could get more beautiful, and yet each day you succeed beyond my wildest dreams."

✧ Fili has a near-magical sense for your new struggles of coordination, all but flying to your side to catch your hand or waist whenever you trip or even whenever you must rise up again from your seat!

✧ He loves to tease you, asking what disgusting thing you'll think of him to fix next or joke that he can finally beat you in a fight in this state, but every joke is punctuated by the most loving eyes and gestures that they cannot do a thing but warm your heart and make you chuckle.

✧ Your baby is very active, kicking all the time! "We've definitely got a little Fili in here!" Your husband exclaims with a grin, hand resting atop your belly to feel your little one's exuberant motions. "A strong babe for sure," you sigh, "Much to the pity of my ribs!" "Too bad we aren't having a Kili. Nice and lazy for you." "Hey, I heard that!"

✧ He turns his head, peering over his shoulder at you as you waddle after him, golden hair cascading down. "Care for me to slow down a little?" "I care for you to shut up," you shoot back, crossing your arms and fighting your smile.

Kili

✧ The thought crossed your mind far before it did your husband's. Not that Kili had no desire for children, it was simply that the possibility was all the more yours to consider. It took a visit from your young cousin, who had Kili wrapped around your finger, for the fire to light in your husband's head as well, a smile lighting up his face. "We- we could..." "I know, Kili." You could and you certainly did but a few months later.

✧ "I hope they look just like you." "Me too." Kili pulls his head out of the crook of your neck. "Hey, that is the part where you say 'no, I hope they look like you'!" "I'm doing the work of carrying for how long again? Nine, ten months? Least they can do is resemble me a little," you shoot back with a smirk.

✧ It was Oin who brought the news: "Both babies seem healthy as far as I can tell!" "Both?" You gape. "Both babies?" "'s right," Oin replies, "I know I can't always hear the best, but I haven't been wrong on a heartbeat yet. You can feel 'em." "Guess we did pretty good, eh love?" Kili teases, earning him an elbow to the ribs, but he just shakes his head and tugs you closer against his chest. "Should we make their names confusing as well?" "Don't you think it might get old for them?" "Fili and I switched names plenty of times and we aren't even identical!" You should have known.

✧ Kili takes to sleeping facing you, close enough that sometimes your cheeks brush. Others he slips down lower and you awake with your husband cuddled up to the bump of your belly.

✧ Will come running from any room, anywhere, to feel the babies kick, and also loves tugging along any of his family he can take, too. Childlike wonder fills your husband's eyes every time and pride glistens in his dark eyes when he's brought along his mother, his brother, even his uncle the king!

✧ Never once do you doubt yourself or have one moment of room for insecurity, for Kili still flirts with you as if you were tweens and sneaks all sorts of touches, pecks, and affectionate hands in your hair wherever he can find it! The notion of a baby destroying the romance of your relationship is laughable to you, who married a dwarf that has no shame telling you you're the most gorgeous creature to walk the earth and warm his-and the baby's in a different way-body.

Bilbo

✧ Bilbo's a perceptive hobbit. He knows something's off with you. You don't usually scurry around the way you are like everything has to be perfect. That's his job. "Something the matter? Are you... expecting someone?" Your husband follows you down Bag End's hall as he gives his inquiry, eyebrows shooting up at the look on your face when you turn around. Consternation, resignation, finally a smile. "I was going to tell you after dinner," you answered, "But since you asked it like that, yes I am expecting someone. Our child this spring." At that, it was Bilbo's turn to shift through expressions. Shock, realization, finally a smile.

✧ Nursery shopping has become Bilbo's favorite pastime. Baby Baggins isn't arriving for months and yet your husband is returning from market with all manner of trinkets for the shelves and paper for the walls. You cannot help giggling at his armfuls of supplies and kissing his cheek as you relieve as much of his burden as he allows you to.

✧ So sweet, always helping you dress, pulling on every garment with the utmost of care and even avoiding your reflection on days you feel bad. Quickly kissing each part of your body before he covers it with something he knows will be comfortable.

✧ You'll be eating well whether you like it or not! Bilbo will make you anything under the sun if it means you and Baby Baggins are getting nourishment and he certainly will not have you skimping! Anything that makes you sick simply is not allowed in Bag End at all, end of discussion.

✧ One night, you awake to soft whispers and your heart melts at the sight of Bilbo resting his chin on your growing bump talking to the baby. Not uttering a word, you simply watch, taking in the moment beneath the sheen of tears in your eyes.

✧ "Careful, careful," Bilbo is always telling you, holding your hand and guiding you over the smallest of obstacles, even little puddles and rocks.

Thranduil

✧ He has talked about getting you pregnant before, but speaking of it and doing it are two entirely different things, especially with...well, words of such nature. Thus, you find yourself nervously wringing your hands before your husband as he strokes your face, asking whatever is the matter. At Thranduil's touch, his intense gaze, you fin yourself melting and admitting all, confessing that you are expecting his child. You are certainly not expecting the way his confident smile utterly falters, dissipating in favor of the look of a man near tears. "Truly? A little one of our own?" "Yes," you whisper, finally able to smile as the tension melts from your body, which is soon pulled against the Woodland King's. "Long have I dreamed of this day, my love."

✧ One of his favorite new activities is commissioning you new maternity dresses; you will certainly have plenty to wear if Thranduil has any say about it! In addition, when the time comes of course he requests that you model them for him.

✧ Thranduil loves to sneak up behind you, lightly wrapping his hands about your waist and laying them atop yours, his head resting in the crook of your neck and breathy, pleased laughter warming the skin there.

✧ When you start showing, oh, he loves it. One more sign that you are his, utterly and truly his queen, his beloved, claimed by Thranduil in every sense. He follows your lead, a hand around your waist, letting you shine like the gem he knows you to be. Rarely will you two be seen apart, not when the king can bask in your glow, relish the eyes upon your beautiful form, heavy with his child.

✧ There is one day he catches you in tears and heart tearing he steps to scoop you up against him, cheeks held gently in his elegant hands, which begin to glitter with your tears. "My rings no longer fit," you sob, head falling to his chest. Thranduil holds you close, grip loose as though you might break. "That is not your fault, meleth nîn." "I feel so... so massive." "Who wishes a small dwelling, hm? Piteous thing not to have any comforts. Your body is a host of life, the vessel of a bloodline. Beautiful in all its forms. Never forget that, oh dearest one."

✧ Thranduil is experienced; he knows many little tricks to help you feel better, be they massages or ways to bear your weight. He impresses you with the knowledge he has of the ways of women, understanding your water breaking, dilation, and every complication the healers warn you about and telling you before they even do!

Feren

✧ First to know was neither you nor your husband, but rather your cat, for she had suddenly become your little shadow, following you about your home and taking rest upon your lap as often as she could. "I wonder what it is that got into her," you commented one afternoon, smiling and stroking her back. "Growing up, ours got like this when my mother was carrying my younger sisters. Both times. It was like he could sense it," Feren replied. You both sat in smiling silence for a moment longer before simultaneously straightening, looking each other right in the widening eyes.

✧ Gets a little flustered, frankly. Not so much at your news itself, simply the realization sinking in that he is to be a father. He, Feren, will have a child. He says this out loud several times before suddenly breaking out into a smile. You tease him for going through half his emotions at once, but now the wave of joy has swept him up!

✧ Playfully rolls his eyes and mock-complains every time you remind him that he has to clean up after the cat now! Subsequently adds that he would fetch you the moon if you asked it.

✧ Loves helping you bathe the more difficult your condition makes it, scrubbing your hair with such care and gently massaging your sore feet and ankles as you wash up. Despite your husband's skill in battle, Feren's hands are the most loving and delicate you could ask for.

✧ Your husband has a natural tendency to rise early, so now that your sleep has become more fitful you do find that you have more time to spend together. Your head falling to his shoulder as you whisper to each other, seated as you are upon your bed with blankets draped over your shoulders.

✧ Feren wins your heart time and time again, like the day he lowered you down gently onto the grass of a sunny meadow, basking with you and weaving flowers. He made you a ring, crowned you with a wreath of flowers atop your head, and made another little one to place gently on the curve of your belly, bringing your heart to soar.

Bard

✧ Uncertainty wracks your heart and wrings your hands at the would-be-cheerful news. In fact, you yourself do feel joy, have since your suspicions were confirmed, but would Bard see it the same way? He already has three mouths to feed, three children all old enough to take care of themselves. Will he wish to start it all over so? "What's wrong, love? Your lip is bleeding." So it is. You've practically gnawed the poor thing off in all your stewing. A sigh escapes you. Bard is your husband. No sense in delaying a very necessary conversation. "I know we should have spoken more about it..." You begin, trailing off. At once, Bard senses your reservation and rises to your side, taking hold of your arms; the love in his dark eyes brings a small smile to your lips and relaxes you slightly. "I'm with child, Bard." Almost childlike is the wonder and joy spreading across your face, and before you can say another word you are being pulled into Bard's chest, face snuggling into the fur of his coat.

✧ He knows what to expect, naturally, so Bard is definitely not the type of husband to gripe about your requests, though he does smirk and poke fun if you’re especially outrageous with it or have a funny enough delivery. Then kisses you if you pout about it before fetching what you seek.

✧ Caution overtakes you and your husband as you make to tell his older children the news, particularly you, but your wringing hands relax when you can see the joy in their eyes, particularly the girls! They hope the baby is another girl, hugging you so tight you almost cannot breathe, but you complain not.

✧ Happy is Bard to take on assistance cooking; he knows it can make you sick sometimes and besides, it's a nice excuse to make sure you get all the nutrients you need! You are certainly very lucky in the skill and domesticity of your spouse.

✧ Stands behind you and reaches his arms around you, lifting up the weight you carry and smiling, kissing your neck and cheeks as you relax from your burden.

✧ He also has no qualms about making you rest, down even to physically lifting you up and carrying you to bed if he must!

Beorn

✧ Hesitant as he always would have claimed to be about bringing more Skin-Changers into a world so cruel to them, Beorn feels his nesting instincts kick in very quickly after you become his wife. You see it in the things he gathers, the way your husband moves things such as your blades to higher, safer locations. He is anticipating something. Something you cannot help pulling him aside and asking about, and when your feelings on the subject are made known, well, it is entirely possible you conceived that very night.

✧ Beorn has an almost eerie sense for all the changes taking place in your body. You feel a sharp pain in your back, and without a word your husband is behind you, ushering you down for a massage with some of the oils he's pressed.

✧ The aforementioned nesting instincts manifest early on, your husband carefully blunting corners and tucking away the best blankets so the little one-or ones!- will be nothing but safe and comfortable.

✧ Withdrawn as he could be, Beorn's affection is drawn out by your condition, his big brown eyes soft upon you as he pulls you into his lap, large hands secure about your waist and sliding gently up and down your growing belly.

✧ And grow it does! It seems to get heavier by the day, but that is explained thanks to your husband's exceptional hearing. "Four heartbeats. One is yours. A litter- three are coming!" Spots dance in your vision at that news, but Beorn's smile as he grips your hand brings you back to the light. You could do it with him by your side. "Our little litter."

✧ He attempts to reassure you anytime your anxiety grows. "My dearest flower, I have delivered hundreds of calves and piglets in my day! You will see this through." Reassuring? Perhaps not so much. But in your heightened emotion, that does break you into a wild laughter that does indeed relax you nonetheless.

Want to meet the little ones? Perhaps there will be a Part 2 😉

Taglist: @lokilover476 @kilibaggins @fuckyoumakeart @filiswingman @ibabblealot @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia @datglutengoblin @mossyskinn @wordbunch @tiny-and-witchy @th3-st4r-gur1 @fleurdemiel-145 @mistresskayla-blog1 @misabelle717 | Reply/Message/Ask to join 🩷

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fvsm4x · 1 year ago

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Hii! Can I request any jjk men with a best friend! reader who wears a mask to hide their face bcs they think its ugly? (its up to u if u want sfw or not!)

#PRETTIEST [Gojo S. and Geto S.]

SUMMARY: Since you were a child, you‘ve always hated the way you look, so- you started wearing a mask.

— C.W: Gojo Satoru x female reader x Geto Suguru , hurt with comfort , insecurity , fluff.

— WORD COUNT: 1.3k+

— TAGLIST: @starlightanyaaa

— A/N: AHHH THIS IS SUCH A CUTE REQUEST I HAD TO WRITE IT IMMEDIATELY AFTER I FINISHED WRITING MAYBE IN ANOTHER LIFE!! SORRY IF ITS SHORT I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!!

Since you were a small child, you always hated the way you looked. Your nose, cheeks, and moles were constant sources of self-consciousness, and you despised the way you appeared in general. It was as if a dark cloud of insecurity constantly loomed over you, casting a shadow on your self-esteem.

Around the age of 7, it all began. You were just an innocent child, excited to go to school like any other kid. You possessed a unique ability that set you apart from your classmates - you could see curses, dark entities that others couldn’t perceive.

Every day, as you walked past your classmates, you were subjected to relentless torment. They would push you into the ground, snatch away your books, spill your lunch onto your head, and even steal your clothes during PE. You became a victim of bullying, and the reason behind it was painfully clear - you were deemed ugly.

At that tender age, you couldn’t comprehend the cruelty that surrounded you. You naively believed that this was their way of noticing you or playing with you. But as time went on, the truth slowly revealed itself - they targeted you because of your appearance, because you were considered ugly in their eyes.

It was during this dark period that you began to wear a mask, hoping that it would shield you from the relentless bullying. The mask became your armor, a tangible barrier that protected you from the perceived flaws you couldn’t bear to face. It became a part of your identity, an integral aspect of who you were. With the mask on, you felt a sense of safety, as if you were hiding your true self from the scrutinizing eyes of the world.

There wasn’t a single moment when you ventured outside without your mask. But despite the mask’s protective facade, deep down, you longed to be accepted for who you truly were.

It was during this challenging time that you crossed paths with your best friends, Geto and Gojo. Fate brought the three of you together on a fateful day as you were walking home from school. They witnessed your ability to kill a low-grade curse, and in that moment, they knew that you were like them - you could see curses just as they could.

This serendipitous encounter changed the course of your life. You made the decision to leave your previous school and join the same school as Geto and Gojo, hoping that this new environment would provide a fresh start, free from the torment of your past.

In the same class as Geto and Gojo, there was another girl who exuded beauty effortlessly. Her flawless skin, perfect facial structures, and the charming mole beneath her eye made her the epitome of perfection. Secretly, you couldn’t help but feel jealous of her. You longed to possess the same level of beauty and radiance, but you kept your jealousy hidden beneath a facade of indifference.

As the months passed, your bond with Geto and Gojo grew stronger. You began to address them by their first names, just as they did with you. It seemed like everything was going well, until one fateful day when a simple request shattered the fragile equilibrium you had created.

The three of you were gathered in Geto’s dorm, engrossed in a movie, when Gojo’s curious gaze fell upon your mask. His innocent question pierced through your defenses, leaving you vulnerable and exposed.

“Say, y/n… could we see your face?” he inquired, his finger pointing towards the mask that concealed your true self.

In that moment, the smile that had adorned your face behind the mask vanished, replaced by a mixture of apprehension and fear. You locked eyes with Gojo, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race.

“We’ve been friends for quite some time now, and I can’t recall a single moment where you haven’t worn that mask. You even wear it while you sleep!” he continued,

Your gaze dropped, unable to meet their expectant eyes. It was true - you had never once removed the mask in their presence. You only allowed it to come off when you brushed your teeth or washed your face. The thought of revealing your true face to them filled you with an overwhelming sense of dread. You feared that they would be repulsed by your appearance, that they would abandon you once they saw the real you, the one you believed to be ugly.

“That’s true, y/n. If you have a larger injury or something, we won’t judge. We just want to see how pretty you look behind the mask,” Geto chimed in,

Pretty.

The word echoed in your mind, taunting you with its expectations. They anticipated beauty, but what if you took off your mask and shattered their illusions? What if they saw the imperfections that plagued your self-image? The mere thought of their potential rejection was unbearable.

But why do you care so much about their opinion?

The reason was because you had fallen in love with both Geto and Gojo. Despite knowing that you were seemingly out of their league, your heart couldn’t help but beat faster whenever you were around them. You had tried to suppress these feelings, but they persisted, refusing to be ignored.

“I promise, Y/N, whatever you’re hiding won’t change a thing between us,” Gojo spoke, his voice filled with sincerity as he positioned himself in front of you. Geto, too, reached out and gently took your hands in his larger ones.

“Please, trust us,” Geto pleaded,

You found it difficult to resist their pleading gazes. Taking a deep breath, you finally relented, “Fine, but I warn you, it’s not what you expect.”

As the mask slipped away, revealing your face, you closed your eyes tightly, bracing yourself for the inevitable disappointment and rejection. You didn’t want to hear the people you loved utter the same hurtful words that had haunted you in the past.

But then, to your astonishment, Gojo’s voice broke the silence, filled with genuine awe, “Unbelievable! This is beyond stunning; it’s mesmerizing.”

Did you hear correctly? Mesmerizing? He didn’t say the word “ugly”? You cautiously opened your eyes, only to be met with Gojo’s intense gaze. He was staring at your face, his cheeks flushed with a deep blush. In that moment, you realized that he found you stunning, not repulsive. He was captivated by your appearance.

“I knew you were hiding a masterpiece under there, but this… it’s like you walked out of a dream,” Geto spoke, his hands tightening around yours,

Confusion and disbelief washed over you as you struggled to comprehend their reactions. “I don’t understand… why aren’t you saying I look ugly?” you murmured, your eyes flickering between the two of them.

“Ugly?” Gojo scoffed, his voice filled with disbelief. “That’s impossible. You’re the epitome of beauty, and we’re lucky to witness it.”

“Whoever said that you’re ugly clearly is blind,” Geto chimed in, removing his hands from yours and wrapping his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. “Because you’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen in my whole life.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you widened them in shock. The tears began streaming down your face as a genuine smile spread across your lips. You were overwhelmed by their words and the overwhelming surge of emotions that flooded your heart.

Suddenly, a hand crept around your waist, and you looked down to see Gojo smiling up at you, resting his head on your lap.

“You guys…” you whispered, your voice choked with emotion as more tears continued to flow down your cheeks, landing on Gojo’s face beneath you.

A hand gently cradled your jaw, turning your head to the side, and you found yourself meeting Geto’s intense gaze. He brought his lips to your face, tenderly kissing away the tears that cascaded down your cheeks.

“Beautiful,” he murmured,

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ash5monster01 · 1 year ago

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hii!! could you write something for charlie dalton and an insecure reader (they are already dating)? ive been feeling kind of ugly lately😭😭 tysm

I’m so sorry this has taken me so long, I hope everything has been going okay. Insecurities can really suck sometimes, but we just have to remember we’re all beautiful in our own way <3

Perfectly Me

Pairing: Charlie Dalton x FemReader

Warnings: fluff, self doubt, insecurities, anxiety

Summary: Dating cool and confident Charlie is proven to be hard when most of the time you’re insecure about everything about yourself.

word count: 1.1k

Masterlist

Charlie had always been Charlie. You weren’t entirely sure where he got it from. Somehow after all these years in boarding school he had found a confidence that set him apart from the others. You had never met anyone else that had lived life with their chin so high and smile so wide. He was confident, fun, popular, and you felt everything but. When he had chosen you it was shocking. How could daring and brave Charlie seek out the only girl that kept her head ducked and mouth shut. Yet somehow he did and everyday since you had been questioning why.

Especially on days like today. Days where Charlie’s laugh bellowed loudly through the lunch room as you sat quiet as a mouse beside him. Girls looked on with adoring looks and boys laughed after every sentence that left his mouth. His presence was large, everyone saw him, everyone liked him. It was so intense that as you sat beside the boy you loved you felt more invisible then ever, especially to him. He didn’t see you, there is no way he could have. You were nothing but an inanimate object beside him and you had only ended up in this position from a cruel trick of fate. Not only were you now invisible but humiliated because you couldn’t compare to him. You never could.

When the bell sounds you’re the first out the door. You didn’t want to wait and see if Charlie even acknowledged you, it would hurt too much if he didn’t. You barely went noticed as you left anyway so it would be no surprise if he didn’t notice either. But he did. His proud look turning into one of confusion as he spotted your form rushing away. He had wanted to kiss you, stare into your pretty eyes for a moment longer, but you were gone in the blink of an eye. He wondered why, it almost feeling like you were trying to escape him. This very thought plagued him the rest of the day as he awaited a moment to see you again.

Once classes were over it took him forever to find you. He felt like he had turned Welton upside down in search of you until he finally found you curled up on a window seat in the library. Your eyes were cast downward at the book in your hands, your forehead pressed against the cool glass of the window where you sat. You were so beautiful and his heart yearned deeply for you in that very moment. He wished you didn’t feel so far away. He just wanted you two to be okay. As much as he talked about always having a girlfriend he never thought he’d be lucky enough to have one, especially you.

“Found you” you jump slightly at the sound of his husky voice. He’s lifting your feet and sliding beside you before you can react. He doesn’t make any notion that the window is cold against his back as he finally looks at you.

“I wasn’t hiding” you finally say, a bit nervous in his presence which you hated.

“Felt like it” the sad way he drops his gaze from you makes your heart clench. You hadn’t meant to hurt him but he had unintentionally been hurting you.

“I know” you whisper and Charlie looks up to see the sad expression you wear, one that matched his own.

“Can you tell me why?” he asks and you notice how small he seems here. He isn’t loud and proud Charlie, he’s your boyfriend who’s afraid you’re going to say something that hurts him and even worse you know what you have to say is going too.

“I don’t know why you’re with me Charlie” you say, officially closing your book and giving him your full attention.

“What do you mean?” he asks and you bring your hands to your face, sighing into them before looking up again.

“I’m not like you Charlie. You’re good looking, popular, outgoing. I’m just not” you say, exasperated and tired of not only being insecure about everything else in your life but about this too.

“Yes you are!” and this has you chuckling dryly, so tired of being lied to.

“No Charlie, I know it, you know it, and the rest of these imbeciles do too” you say, arms crossing over you chest and Charlie sighs as he presses a hand to his forehead.

“You are to me” he says calmly and you feel your heart rate accelerate at the confession. Charlie dares a glance at you to see your face flooded with sadness and confusion. He had never meant to make you feel small. “You’re the only girl for me. Maybe you’re not all that outgoing but that’s okay. I need someone who is going to bring me down to earth. I wanted to kiss my girlfriend today before she left after lunch and instead I watched her run away from me. I don’t try to make you feel worthless, I’m just so used to being loud and bold to hide the fact that I’m terrified my life won’t turn out the way I want it to. The only thing I’m sure of is you”

“Is that true?” you ask and Charlie chuckles even though none of this conversation is meant to be funny.

“It’s the most true thing I’ve said all week” he tells you and finally you take a good look at your doe eyed boyfriend. His floppy brown hair hangs in his eyes and the crooked smile on his face is still only ever directed at you. He loves you the way you love him, for all the things neither of you are. So you scoot forward and wrap your arms around his neck.

“I’m sorry I assumed the worst of you” you tell him and he gives you a tight lipped smile that you happily lean forward and kiss.

“I’m sorry I expected too much of you” Charlie apologizes in return and you smile before locking your lips with his own again. Pulling yourself closer to him your book slides from your lap and lands with a loud thud that has you both giggling quietly in the back corner of the library. Charlie doesn’t care about the attention it might’ve brought and kisses you good and hard again.

The best thing about Charlie is no matter how insecure you are, at least he will always be there for you. You balanced each other out and balance was the most important key to life. Balance love, balance work and art, and you shall be free.

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theresthesnitch · 10 months ago

Text

“Oh, sorry. I didn–Oh. Hi.”

Remus hasn’t even bothered to look up before he heard the voice, and for a moment, he isn’t even sure if he really hears it. It’s like a shot from the past, someone he never thought he’d see again. Someone he isn’t sure he wanted to see again.

“Oh. Hi Sirius.”

“Remus, wow. It’s been so long. You look– You look really great.”

“Thanks,” Remus says. “You do too.”

He looks beautiful, of course. He couldn't even have the decency to get ugly in the years that have passed. Not that Remus ever thought that he could win that particular break up battle. Sirius was never going to be anything but beautiful. You’re so beautiful it hurts to know you, Remus had said one night when they’d laid on the top of Gryffindor Tower. He meant it. It’s still true. It still hurts.

Sirius glanced over his shoulder, then smiled back at Remus. “Could you stay? We could grab a table and catch up?”

Remus looks down. He doesn’t really have anywhere to be, but he’s certain he doesn’t want to stay. “I don’t know. I’ve got to–”

“Please, Remus?” Sirius asks, and Remus knows he’s going to say yes. He’s never been able to deny Sirius when he asks like that. “Come on. Just five minutes.”

Remus sighs, fidgeting with the scar across his knuckles as he considers. It’s new. One that Sirius won’t know, not like before when he’d memorized every part of Remus’s skin. “Alright. Five minutes.”

---

They grab the only open table at the back of the shop, a small little two seater that feels far too intimate for the years that have placed distance between them. Remus holds his coffee mug between his hands, letting the warm liquid warm them. It’s close to the full moon, and his joints are already aching. Sirius once memorized every full moon for the next decade. Remus wonders if he still remembers them.

Silence drags before them, carried by the metaphorical elephant in the room. This was Sirius’s idea, so Remus fully intends to let him start the conversation or let his five minutes run out without speaking. It seems like it would be easier that way. It’s killing him not to fill the silence. Remus sips his drink instead.

“Merlin,” Sirius says, a strained chuckle choked out of his throat. “I don’t know what to say now. Sorry.”

Remus shrugs. He could make this easier on Sirius; he won’t make this easier. Why should he make this easier for Sirius? So, how have you been? Where have the years put you? I’ve thought about you every moment since I left. I miss you. I hate you. I still love you. I think I love you more than I hate you.

“What’s it been, ten years?” Sirius asks. “Where’ve you been?”

“Twelve,” Remus says, clearing his throat. “It’s been Twelve years.” Twelve years, nine months, three weeks, six days. Not that he’s counting. “I’ve been around, I guess.”

“I heard you left the country,” Sirius says.

“I did,” Remus says. “I–” he clears his throat. “I decided there wasn’t any reason to stay in England anymore.”

Sirius looks down–shame or regret, maybe both, coloring his cheeks pink. “Where’d you go?”

Remus sits back with a sigh. “Everywhere. No, that’s not me trying to be difficult. It’s just true. I started on the Continent–honestly, it would be easier to name the countries I didn’t send time in. Went down and stayed in Egypt for a stint, then East. India, Vietnam, China. A few dozen countries between.” He shrugs. “Everywhere.”

“Why didn’t you ever come back here?”

Remus huffs derisively. “Come on, Sirius. You know why.”

“I really don’t,” Sirius says.

“There wasn’t really anything to come back to, was there?” Remus snaps. “Not when all of my friends decided I was the spy and iced me out of everything.”

Sirius looks away, picking at the sticker on the outside of his coffee cup. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Remus isn’t sure it’s worth anything. Or maybe it’s worth everything. Maybe it’s been so long it doesn’t even matter anymore. “Yeah, well.”

The silence returns, throwing its weight about in a space that once would have been filled with laughter. It’s a terrible reminder of what they once were, of what they no longer are. Remus considers whether there’s some way he can get up and leave now, or whether standing and walking away without a further word would be rude.

“What brought you back now?” Sirius asks quietly.

“Dumbledore,” Remus says. “Apparently traveling the globe as a freelance beast and creature control specialist makes you particularly well suited to teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, and he’s in need of someone.”

“You’re going to teach Defense?” Sirius asks, clearly surprised. That burns Remus. What right does he have to be surprised? Why would he doubt that Remus is capable of doing this?

Remus huffs. “Of course, that’s what would surprise you. I’m capable, thank you so very much, and despite your beliefs a decade ago, I didn’t study the Dark Arts any more than you did.”

“Remus, that’s not what I meant–”

“No, you know what, I think my five minutes are up here,” Remus says, standing swiftly. “I have to be off. Got lots to get done before the semester starts. Goodbye, Sirius.”

Remus walks out, despite Sirius’s protests, and apparates as soon as he gets to the alley behind the coffee shop and away from muggle eyes.

#Wolfstar #snitchwrites #do I know what this is?#no #Will there be more of it?#who knows.#things that demand to be written #professors marauders

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eskymoos · 10 months ago

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Levi Ackerman- The Richest Man in the World

You wanted to make a normal date with Levi more fun and unconventional, but you forgot that he can read you like an open book. Word count- 1409 Female reader x Levi Ackerman SFW

Dating Levi Ackerman can be very exciting. From under the sheets to simple, humble dinner dates. He always has a way of making it memorable for both of you. There is one occasion in particular, however, that will never slip your mind.

It was a hot summer day in Trost when the two of you headed for the heart of the city. There was no end goal other than to put your responsibilities aside and save up some time for each other. You were having an amazing time when a great idea came to your mind.

There was a tall building on your left– a multifloored store for dresses of all sorts. Green, red, blue. Short, long, exotic. All of it in one place. You weren't surprised considering that many wealthy people lived here and most of them could easily afford to fill their wardrobes with clothes. Your eyes turned to stars and your jaw dropped.

''Hey, why don't we go inside?''

You suggested that and Levi, who was holding your arm to his chest like a gentleman, glanced over at the entrance. ''Hmmm? You like something?''

''Not yet. Come on.'' You urged and he didn't set you back. The Captain followed right after you, curious as to what you had in mind.

The place really was huge and the store owners gladly welcomed you inside, inviting Levi to sit over at a sofa and observe for now. You began looking at every dress, mesmerized at how amazing all of their designs were.

But there is another thing that you couldn't ignore. You wondered if the reason you never wore dresses is because your body type just didn't allow it or because your budget was too small. Nonetheless it all made you hesitate a bit. You went quiet for a moment.

''Are you okay?'' Levi inquired, already sipping on a cup of tea he was brought while you were zoned out.

''Yeah.'' You clicked your tongue and resumed the search.

It was best you kept your worries to yourself. You knew Levi was always one to watch over you and be sensible. You didn't want to feel like you've wasted his time so you chose to pretend that none of the dresses were up your alley.

The first one you tried on was truthfully ugly. You didn't have to fake the reaction. The color made your nose scrunch in disgust.

''I feel like a disco ball. There are too many beads,'' you murmured and your gaze ran to your quiet boyfriend. Levi was silent but his eyes were burning right through you. He took another long sip and said nothing. No sign of any emotion.

Then you tried another one on. It was very beautiful but too long and tripped you over a couple of times.

''It's my style but too long. I would need them to shorten it.'' You looked down and realized that not even your legs were visible through the material.

Levi was still watching and still saying nothing. You're beginning to wonder if this is boring for him.

Then your interest was piqued by three others. Unlike the first ones, you actually had luck this time. The dresses were the perfect size, shape and color. In fact, they resembled the ones you used to read about in your books. It was a fantasy brought to your reality.

But you couldn't have Levi know that or else you'd have to tell him how this entire time you didn't have the money for any of this. You know he wouldn't mock you but the guilt would eat at your heart.

''It's…something. These are getting progressively worse, don't you think?'' You asked for his input, finding his sitting reflection in the mirror. Once more his mouth didn't open to speak but his focus went up and down on you. Was he eye fucking you or judging your horrible taste?

After a few minutes of doubtful thoughts and inner regret, you shrugged your shoulders.

''Well it's fine. I'm glad that we came here at least. Maybe next time I will buy myself something.'' You explained, sighing deeply. What nobody knew was that if you could, you'd collect every single piece of clothing in this building. That dream owned your soul.

You put on your casual clothes and walked out the fitting room to Levi who stepped closer to you and brushed the hair out of your face. For a moment you got the idea that he was telling you something telepathically but you didn't know what.

''You are beautiful.'' He leaned in to tell you, his voice raspy yet smooth.

The two of you left, saying goodbye to the workers inside. Your gut shrunk a bit. You didn't know what to feel about what just happened.

And so, the arrows of the clock kept looping and two days passed by. You heard a knock on your door.

You opened it to see Petra and Oluo– two very loyal members of Levi's squad. He had told you many times about them but you rarely saw them.

''Is everything okay?'' You rush to ask, already overthinking what could be happening.

''Oh yeah.'' Petra grinned warmly and lifted a strange, enormous bag in her hands. ''The Captain told us to bring this to you. Enjoy.''

The two nodded respectfully, deserting you there with your own thoughts and a lot of confusion. Why exactly would Levi send you something? The two of you lived together so wouldn't it make sense that he directly handed it to you?

You brushed off all questions and checked the contents of the delivery. Your eyes turned big and round when you saw the three exact dresses you fell in love with the other day. But how? You gave it your best to hide what you felt and even acted repulsed but somehow Levi saw through your disguise. Now it makes sense why he was looking so attentively at you. He was studying your face bit by bit as if it were some kind of science. He knew just what you had on your mind.

All of them were crazy expensive which made you freak out a bit. The Captain went out of his way to purchase them without even looking at the price tag? The idea that he went back for that made your heart melt. It also angered you a bit that this entire time he kept quiet and acted natural while you put up an act.

What a foxy man.

A small note fell off the bag onto the ground and you picked it up to see what was written on it.

Come to my office when you can. Bring the dresses.

Levi

Excited to hear from him, you did just that. You flew out of the house wildly and mounted your horse, heading for the location.

When you arrived, you opened the door to find Hange and Erwin inside, having a conversation with Levi.

Levi looked at you instantly and a spark began dancing in the coldness of his blue eyes.

''Hange, Erwin, see yourself out,'' he commanded in a reserved tone. Erwin gave him a nod and greeted you idly before exiting. Hange did too, but not before leaning in to whisper in your ear.

''Don't know what you've done to him but he's not himself today.''

You gave them a baffled look.

''Is that good?''

Hange just grinned, not elaborating any further. They stepped out and shut the door which left just you and Levi in the room. The air turned thick and hard to breathe for a moment.

''Levi, you spent all these money on–''

''Try them on.'' He cut you off, standing up from his seat and approaching you. ''Put them on again. This time be genuine with what you think.''

You sucked in your lower lip and try to formulate a sentence. ''It's too much. It's just too much. I can't possibly pay you back.''

He reached out and pulled you in his arms, his intonation full of sheer affection and pure devotion. ''That's not for you to worry. I want you to try them on and tell me if they need any adjustments.''

You put both hands on his shoulders, ''Are you sure?''

His face moved closer, his mouth caressing your ear. ''Why would I say it if I don't mean it?'' He chuckled. And before you could do what he requested you to, he took your hand and stole your attention momentarily to speak what was on his mind this entire time: ''You make me the richest man in the world, you know that?''

🌹

#levi x reader #levi attack on titan #levi ackerman #levi aot #attack on titan fanfiction #writing #attack on titan #levi heichou #levi x you #aot #writers on tumblr #my fic writing #writerscommunity

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abiiors · 11 months ago

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red lines - pt. 2 ║// matty healy x reader

a/n: this was supposed to be a late christmas/new year's gift for you lot but oh well, consider this an early valentine's day gift now lol. this is sad but also smutty which seems to be my favourite thing to write so enjoy ♡ cw: angst, crying (so much of it my god) (seriously, matty cries after sex like a loser) and arguments, a briefly sick baby (she has a cold) fucked up relationships in general, typos, probably cringe idk. wc: 6.5k here's part 1

matty’s red rimmed eyes stare back at you.

if it weren’t for your baby’s soft babbling grounding you, you would have slammed the door in his face the second you opened it. before he even had the chance to get a word in. not like he’s said anything yet—he’s busy looking from mia to you and back to mia who’s strapped to your chest, face away from him.

his daughter. he doesn’t even know what his daughter looks like.

your heart hammers in your chest as you look at him, take him in properly. he looks like he’s been frozen in time—the same man you left almost a year ago, maybe with a few more greys on his head now. but everything about him harshly pulls you back in time.

looking at him after all this time is like having the last piece of a puzzle click in place.

“hi,” he says, and looks at the back of mia’s head for a moment. his hands twitch at his sides and matty shoves them in his pockets quickly.

you clear your throat. “hi.”

the silence that lingers is so awkward that even the baby senses it. she fusses and lets out a soft whine and you know you only have a few moments before the whine turns into a full cry.

“come in,” you offer and he nods.

the door shuts behind him with a deafening creek and the silence returns with a vengeance.

you watch matty as he looks around him. you wonder how it all looks through his eyes—a house that’s neither too clean, nor too messy, mia’s toys on the sofa, her bottle on the kitchen table, half finished. the half cooked pancake in the pan. and then he looks at the baby.

you watch him carefully, look at the way his eyes shine so brightly and the subtle tremble of his lips. matty takes his hand out of his pocket and reaches out. about to touch her blanket. but you step back on instinct and his hand lingers in the air before falling at his side, limp and useless.

“what do you want, matty?” you ask, your voice more steady than you expected.

he swallows harshly. “i wanted–i thought i’d…”

“you thought…?”

he squares his shoulder and straightens his spine, gathering courage just like you’ve seen him do so many times in the past.

“i wanted to see her. mia. it’s a beautiful name…”

“who told you her name?”

you don’t know where the snapping, harsh tone comes from but matty flinches regardless. you don’t give him a chance to answer though. you know who told him her name.

“it was adam, wasn’t it?”

“please don’t be mad at him,” matty tries hastily and takes a step forward before coming to an abrupt stop. “i begged until… yeah, i begged him to tell me.”

“look i…” he continues, “i messed up, okay? i messed up big time. i've spent every day regretting it. i miss both of you, and i can't—”

“you miss her?” your voice rings out around the room.

mia in your arms is the only thing stopping you from yelling as your entire body shakes with so much rage. you try to keep the tears at bay, you really do but they fall one after the other. land softly on her head.

“you miss her, do you, matty? do you even know what she looks like?”

he shakes his head and looks down in shame.

“no? you didn’t beg your best friend for a photo?” your voice has taken a mocking quality—ugly and cruel. words meant to hurt him, to damage him. words that might give him a taste of a fraction of what you went through.

“please, i—”

“get out.”

“no, listen to me! please, just—”

“leave!”

matty stumbles back and mia breaks into a cry. whatever possessed you to yell like that leaves instantly, zapping away every ounce of strength in your body. your knees shake with the effort of standing upright. your arms tighten around the baby.

matty wipes his eyes quickly and makes his way out the door.

it’s the thud that breaks the last of your restraint. quietly, you sit on the floor, soothing her for what feels like hours. trying to calm yourself by breathing in her scent. she’s safe. you’re both safe.

you don’t need a third.

you only need her.

matty doesn’t give up.

although he doesn’t show up again in person, a box shows up at the door—one addressed to both you and mia. it feels heavy in your hands and something rattles inside.

as curious as you are, you set it on the dining table and go about your day.

you don’t need any of this, whatever he’s sent is probably useless. it’s silly and meant to break down your defenses. you’re sure of it.

still, every time you pass by it, the box seems to wink at you. so you chuck it in a random drawer—one where you keep the extra nappies, the backup-backup-backup ones—and breathe a sigh of relief.

relief that’s almost comically short-lived.

the days pass, and life falls back into its routine—diapers, bottles, and the sweet sound of mia's coos and giggles. the box from matty remains tucked away in the drawer, almost forgotten. you convince yourself that whatever he sent doesn't matter; you've built a new life for you and mia, and that's all that matters.

it's a rainy afternoon when mia decides to unleash chaos upon her last clean onesie. a cosmic fucking joke really that she should need her backup-backup-backups when you’ve almost managed to forget about the box. but there it is, sitting atop the neatly stacked diapers—a plain cardboard box, tied with a simple piece of twine.

you take it out and set it on the kitchen table. then you brew yourself an extra strong cup of coffee and sit in front of it, almost like it’s a staring match…

who’s going to break first?

but obviously it’s a cardboard box, it stays fucking still no matter how hard you wish for it to burst into flames. so you take a sip of coffee and begin undoing the twine. your hands tremble as you lift the lid. your heartbeat quickens.

first you see a layer of tissue papers covering something and then under it, a plain envelope with your name written on it in matty’s handwriting.

inside it is a piece of paper, slightly torn at the edges. folded and refolded a million times.

hi, my love please come home i’m so sorry i don't expect you to forgive me. i messed up. horribly. there’s no other way to put it. and there's no excuse for the pain i've caused. i understand if you never want to see me again, but please, i’m begging you to let me see her just once. just to let her get to know her father. so that i can get to know my daughter. i know what i did is unforgivable but it’s like half a piece of my heart has been missing since you walked out i let you walk out. i don’t expect you to let me back into your lives but please let me hold her just once. i would also like to set up a small trust fund in her name if you give me permission. i won’t have any control over it, but i want her to have something from me for anything she might want in the future. i’m leaving that decision up to you. there are post cards in here that i wrote for you and for her when things got really really bad. it’s not an excuse for how i behaved but some day i hope we could be together friends again. till then just know that not a moment goes by when i don’t wish i could go back in time and stop myself from till then i hope you know how incredibly sorry i am. i hope you know that i will always have nothing but love and respect for you. and for mia. love, matty

the weight of the emotions threatens to suffocate you. the scratched-out bits from the letter are just slightly visible. not really enough for you to make it out properly but whatever it says has to be too personal, right?

you sink further into the chair, and tears blur your vision. the postcards are right there under the letter—a hundred or so—his heart bared to you. all of the best and worst parts. all the ugly ones too.

and then there’s the trust fund that he wants to set up.

you know it’s the smart thing to do. you can’t have emotions clouding your judgement when it comes to securing her future. and he said he won’t have any control over it so that’s good, right…?

and yet a part of you hesitates to pick up the cards and read his words.

everything feels too raw, too vulnerable and honest.

everything feels too much.

you think and you think and you think for the next few days.

all you do is think about him and the postcards and the trustfund. you even have a little spat with your mum when she says it’s a good idea. you accuse her of playing the devil’s advocate but ultimately she’s right.

this is not about you. this is about your daughter.

so you let her bathe mia and get her ready for bed, and then you pick up your phone and open the old text thread.

have an amazing night, babe. break a leg.

the text sits there innocently. the words are still the same—casual and loving and normal and almost like they were written in a foreign language. you quickly wipe up your tears and delete the old thread before there’s time to second-guess it.

gone. winked out of existence just like that.

and then you open a fresh new thread.

hi matty, hope you’re well. got your letters hello matty hey. i got the box. can we talk?

it amazes you how much back and forth you have to do for a simple message. how many times you talk yourself out of sending it. but once it’s gone. it’s gone.

half a minute later, three dots dance in response.

hey, would love to. next sunday?

sunday works. that’s exactly a week from now. enough time for you to prepare mentally. it’s also a day after your mum gets back from her mini holiday so you can just leave mia with her without having to worry about bringing her with you.

sunday works. see you then.

and that’s the end of that. you switch your phone off and vow to not think about him till then. if only it were that easy…

three days later you wake up to a shrill cry coming from the nursery.

hastily you check the time, 2:37 am, and run to check up on mia, heart thudding in your chest. she’s usually such a calm baby. she sleeps so well through the night and yet the closer you get the louder her cries get.

the more you feel fear grip your chest.

“oh my love, what’s wrong? what’s wrong, baby?”

she continues to wail even after you check her diapers and feel her cot for any wetness. it’s only when you gently touch her cheek do you realise how warm she feels. heat radiates from her little body and panic sets in as you rush to the kitchen to grab the thermometer. the digital display confirms your fear—a fever.

not very high but still, she’s sick for the first time in her life.

“you’ve got a fever sweet girl,” you coo and clear your dry throat.

fuck! calling your mum’s not an option. calling the gp’s also not an option.

her loud cries make your heart squeeze in pain. rocking doesn’t help. strapping her to your naked chest helps only for about ten minutes until she’s screaming once again.

you try a bath, hoping the vapour would clear her cold a little but all it does it give you a headache.

your head feels like it’s about to burst open, blood splattering on the walls and everywhere else as mia continues to cry until her whole body is pink and red from the effort. how does a tiny baby have this much strength in her lungs? you feel her forehead for the tenth time—warm, and you wipe away her runny nose. but no amount of cooing and rocking her helps.

“calm down, darling,” you try to shush her, a note of begging in your voice. your temples throb and mia wails right next to your ears.

you think maybe singing to her would calm her down but any more exertion and the black dots in your vision continue to swim around.

fuck.

you need help. and your mum is not an option. absolutely no one you can call at 3:30 in the morning.

absolutely no one who will even answer.

but that’s not true is it…

with shaky hands you pick up your phone and dial his number. you’d promised yourself never to go crawling to him for help. but the universe has a funny way of forcing your hand.

desperation for your daughter's well-being overrides any pride or resentment. the phone rings, each tone louder than the last. just as you’re sure it’s about to go unanswered, his groggy, sleepy voice comes through from the other side.

“hello?”

you barely give him the chance to speak before launching into your panic-filled pleas. “matty, it’s mia. she’s sick–she won’t–she’s so warm and my mum’s not here and i don’t–nothing's working—”

“hey, hey, love calm down,” he shushes from the other side and then there's rustling in the background. “i’m coming over.”

matty doesn’t even take fifteen minutes to get to your house, eyes widening the second he takes a look at you and your daughter. she’s been attached to you like an extra limb ever since you woke up to her crying. not that you’ve had the heart to set her down for any longer than necessary but you’re aware how deranged you must look with your hair all over the place and red eyes, exhaustion embedded so deep down in your bones that no amount of sleep will get rid of it.

“she won’t stop crying,” you launch into it the second he steps inside. every two words you hiccup, trying and failing to keep the sobs at bay. “she has a cold, matty. i’ve tried everything. we had a warm bath, i gave her some calpol. i’ve tried rocking her and singing to her and i’m so fucking tired but she’s just–she won’t stop—”

“hey…” it only takes one gentle touch from him to make you forget every single feeling of apprehension. matty’s frown deepens.

“are you sure?” his voice has suddenly gone quiet, so quiet that you barely hear it over the baby’s cries.

you look at him in confusion. “didn’t you listen to me? yes i’m fucking sure, she’s ill, matty. look at her!” your voice rises another octave, more and more panicked as another moment passes by and she refuses to settle down.

“no i…” he steps closer and extends his hand. almost afraid to touch her or you. maybe afraid that you might step away like last time. but you stay in place and matty touches the back of her head. it's featherlight at first as if she might break if he puts too much force into it. one touch and she’d crumble away like she was never here at all.

as if this was all his dream.

“no, i meant…” he swallows harshly and clears his throat. “are you sure you want me to take her?”

the hold you have on her loosens ever so slightly.

you called matty here. it’s not like he showed up, unannounced and drunk, no! he showed up at an ungodly hour to help you. if anything… that earns him a tiny, miniscule brownie point.

“do you know how to—”

“hold a baby?” he quips and you notice the way his face brightens almost imperceptibly, barely even noticeable. “i do, i’ve uh… yeah. i do.”

he doesn’t elaborate further, he only stands there patiently until you find your hold on her loosening. you will your heart to calm down, will your body to not be so rigid. then you take a deep breath and extend her to him.

she looks almost different in his arms. smaller somehow, so much more like him than you realised. and matty’s face holds an expression you’ve never seen before.

something about it makes your heart stutter.

he’s enamoured by her, so much so that he barely even reacts when she sneezes in his face and keeps crying even though it’s a bit softer now. maybe she’s just as distracted trying to process him, maybe she feels something too—a bond that’s somehow always been there, hidden and battered and hanging on by a thread.

in a heartbeat, his face changes and he holds her to his chest.

in a tentative voice, matty shushes her, bounces her a bit just like you had been. you wring your hands nervously waiting for something to happen. maybe he’d realise he still doesn’t want her, that he was wrong to think he did. maybe he’d give her back and leave you again quietly.

your chest hurts at the thought, but you will it away and watch matty cuddle her closer.

he holds her as tightly as possible without hurting her. matty closes his eyes and presses his face into her head, he swallows harshly and for a moment his whole body shudders. when he opens them again, they’re tinged pink, and he quickly looks away.

“can you—” he clears his throat and tries again. “can you show me where the nursery is?”

you nod and gesture for him to follow. mia’s cries slow a little when matty starts walking. he continues shushing her and attempting baby talk which is slightly amusing despite everything. he gives up in a few seconds though and goes back to talking to her normally.

“just a cold, my love,” you hear him faintly, “they’re really annoying though, aren’t they?”

in spite of yourself, you smile and stop in front of the nursery.

“she usually likes the chair.”

matty looks to the corner of the room where you’re pointing and nods. then he clears his throat.

“should i… uh, does she have a favourite blanket?”

the fact he thought of it is impressive. and she does, but you know it’s just been washed and folded. to get it for her, you’d have to leave them alone. for the first time ever.

the rational part of your brain knows it won’t be a big deal. it’s two minutes at most and it’s not like matty’s gonna run away with her. your heart pounds regardless, and your feet feel leaden.

“sure, it’s–yeah, let me just…” and then you leave before you have the chance to overthink it.

by the time you’re get back to the nursery, soft blanket in hand, matty’s already settled in the rocking chair, mia in his arms with her cheek squished against his chest.

he’s unbuttoned a few buttons of his shirt so he’s not entirely shirtless but just enough to feel her against his skin—to get a second chance at the skin-to-skin he missed.

“that’s it, darling,” he speaks softly and strokes her cheek. “settle down for me. daddy’s gonna take care of you, okay?”

with every word he speaks, her eyes get droopier, her sniffles turn to quiet breaths until matty takes a deep breath and starts singing a quiet song.

it’s unfamiliar at first, and he starts off unsure and off-kilter. his voice cracks, but mia babbles something and presses further into his chest. it’s then that he really smiles—wide and breath-taking and so incredibly happy that the air whooshes out of your lungs just at the sight of it.

daddy’s gonna take care of you, okay?

and that’s exactly what he does. he pats on her back softly, presses small kisses to her head until your eyes sting and a sob almost escapes.

quickly, you back away, still clutching the blanket. still holding back tears until you’re far, far away from him and somehow in the empty kitchen. the sky is only just turning pink, even then, the darkness lingers. and that’s when the dam breaks.

great, heaving sobs spill out of you—ugly and wretched and loud enough that it’s a miracle matty doesn’t come running. your legs give out from under you and you slide against the counter, leaning against it and praying for any amount of strength. your chest aches and your body trembles. a distatant memory flashes across your mind—of the last time you cried like this. when you accidentally called adam instead of your mum.

when adam did show up even if you tried to get him to leave.

the cool surface of the countertop offers a small comfort. with trembling hands, you clutch the soft blanket, and bury your face in it. it still holds the scent of baby oils and powders, of her fluffy little head that you adore so much. the same head that’s full of his curls.

you gasp for a breath and stifle another sob. the blanket helps too—it’s grounding and comforting. it’s familiar. you force yourself to take another deep breath, and this time it comes a bit easier. the weight on your chest eases just a bit. the grief that felt so overwhelming all these months loosens its grip around your heart and in the stillness of dawn, matty’s voice floats into the kitchen.

you stay there on the floor, counting one breath after the other, listening to his lullaby until the whole kitchen is bathed in the orange light of dawn.

then you wipe away the snot and the tears and make yourself stand up.

you hold your head in your hands, hoping the dull ache would go away soon, along with all the memories of the last 24 hours. at this point, you’d settle for the complete erasure of the last thirty minutes.

you just want to go back to before—back to your happy cheerful baby, back to being busy enough that you have no time to think about him.

you desperately crave the before where the crack in his voice doesn’t haunt every thought. where the song doesn’t echo in the crevices of your brain and mia’s cries don’t grow quieter with every word he sings. in fact, you crave an alternate world where she doesn’t cry at all. she sleeps through the night like always and you video call your mum when she wakes up.

that’s what was supposed to happen. not…this.

not matty being in your house with your—his—daughter, watching her with that devastated look on his face.

a soft thud of the door jerks you out of your thoughts but the house remains devoid of baby cries. the only thing you can hear really is matty’s footsteps growing louder until you can see him at the door to the kitchen from the corner of your eye.

he hesitates and lingers like he’s trapped in a limbo.

“you can come in, you know?” you straighten and roll your neck to get rid of some of the pain. there’s a momentary relief before the ache comes flooding back.

“she’s asleep…”

“yeah, i thought she would be.”

“she feels a bit cooler to the touch,” he reports and relief floods your chest.

for a moment the kitchen stays silent. the birds outside chirp once in a while and you hear the occasional sounds of a car but everything else feels like it’s come to a standstill. quiet. the universe holding its breath in anticipation.

“i should go—”

“coffee—”

you both speak at the same time and shut your mouth again. another pang of pain lances through your body and this time you barely hold back the wince.

he wants to leave, of course, he does. just because he came through in a time of need doesn’t mean he’s ready to be a father. it doesn’t mean you’re ready to let him be her father.

“coffee sounds nice,” he speaks so softly that you barely hear it at first. there’s trepidation in his voice; a slight tremor that he might be pushed away again but a rock lodges itself in your throat and all you can manage is a slight nod.

you can feel his stare burning into the back of your head when you turn. the coffee pot is still full of yesterday’s grounds—something you haven’t had the chance to tidy up yet. now that you look around, the whole kitchen is a bit of a mess. you scoff to yourself. your mum’s been gone for three whole days and your life is already falling apart trying to be a single mother.

the gurgling of water fills the kitchen as the kettle starts boiling and you look around for a spare mug. yours is right by the coffee machine but an extra one should be high up in the cupboard.

matty’s shoes squeak on the floor but he doesn’t come any closer.

“need any he—”

“no. i’m fine!”

and just to drive the point home, you yank the door to the top shelf open and stretch extra high to reach the spare mug. cool air brushes the exposed sliver of skin and just for a moment you’re tempted to see if he’s looking, just for a tiny second, until pain lances through your neck and shoulder and this time the loud wince slips out.

before you know it, matty’s behind you, steading you with a hand against the small of your back—warm palm pressed against warm, exposed skin. somewhere deep down you would have recognised him through smell alone—the same warm spicy smelled laced with just a hint of cigarette smoke that you’ve thought about on many lonely nights.

sometimes when you’re deep asleep, it sneaks up on you, envelopes you so thoroughly that you wake up surrounded by it, suffocating almost and still desperately trying to get lungfulls of it.

the same smell surrounds you now and matty’s body presses close to yours.

“careful there,” he breathes and the warmth of it spreads goosebumps all over your body.

“you alright?”

you know he’s referring to your wince from two seconds ago but your brain takes an eternity to form a coherent sentence.

“fine,” you manage. “i was rocking mia all night, think i pulled something.”

instantly, warm, rough fingers touch your shoulder and the space between you comes alive with electricity.

“trust me,” he murmurs and somehow you find yourself nodding and closing your eyes, sighing when his fingers press into your skin. the wood the counter digs into your pelvis, almost like a tether to this world, something to stop you from floating away and giving in to his touch. heat simmers in your blood just as the water in the kettle comes to a full boil.

“this feel good, love?”

distant thoughts remind you to say no, to move away and shut hm off again. he has no business touching you again, but your body seems disconnected from your brain. instead of walking away, you lean back, into his chest and away from the wood of the counter.

the tether snaps but matty’s there to hold you down. his hand snakes around your waist and you spin. spin till you’re facing him and pressed flush against his chest. until his scent is all around, finally enough to settle into your lungs and not dissipate into the cloying scent of nightmares.

“we s-shouldn’t…” you try to sound firm but the word makes you choke. matty’s eyes dip to your mouth.

“we shouldn’t,” he agrees and presses his lip against yours.

the kiss takes you back to the last time—to the before, in that cosy hotel room by the sea. you think of the two people tangled up in the bedsheets, naked and sweaty and happy. one of them looks remarkably like you—the same hair and eyes, the same smile, slightly fuller cheeks though. she laughs and whispers something in matty’s ear. then he nips at her lips just like he nips at yours now.

it’s a kiss teeming with longing and desire and everything in between.

your teeth knock against each other and matty takes advantage of your gasp to slide his tongue in, to let it run over your lip and against your tongue until you’re panting and leaning against him for support.

“m-matty,”

“tell me you don’t wan’t me,” he says all of a sudden but his eyes are so full of so much hope that your heart might shatter into a million pieces to see it die away slowly.

“i want you…”

and that’s the only permission he needs before his mouth is on yours again, hungry and hot, your lips between his teeth until they’re red and swollen, and only then does he move to your jaw.

his stubble leaves a faint burn on your skin and the fire in your blood burns hotter.

“please,” he chokes out and swallows roughly, “need to taste you, please.”

you don’t trust your voice enough to speak, instead you give him a light push on his shoulders. instantly, matty kneels between your legs and pulls your shorts down until they fall to your ankles, along with the underwear.

silently, you curse for not bothering to shave or wear decent underwear. not like you knew this would be happening. but he’s like a man starved and every ounce of hesitation leaves when your fingers tangle in his hair.

the tresses slip between your fingers, soft and curly and exactly how they used to feel a year ago, the greys stand out against your hand and a whine escapes you the moment his tongue connects to your clit. your breath hitches at the sight of him—eyes half-lidded, dark enough that they are almost black, lips swollen to the point they are wet and red. for a moment, you consider pulling him up just to kiss him again, to taste him again. but then matty’s tongue plunges inside you and your mind goes blank.

his rough hand is against your thigh, fingers digging into soft flesh, another against your ass, holding you up and squeezing the flesh at the same time. your legs tremble and almost give up but he pushes you back and traps against the counter.

you shouldn’t. you shouldn’t. you shoudn’t. you try telling that to yourself over and over again and yet your belly erupts in butterflies that just won’t go away. your hands move of their own accord, guiding his head, pushing his mouth right against your clit, and matty takes it all.

“fuck–” he chokes out and goes back to licking another broad strip, “missed you, missed your taste, fucking missed you so much!”

tears sting your eyes and your body trembles for a different reason this time but you push it back and rut your hips against his face.

despite the thoughts in your head, this feels good. this feels familiar and fantastic and as much as you don’t want to admit it, this feels right.

matty moans against your clit and swipes a finger through your folds. euphoria makes your vision go white and you let yourself cry out his name. perhaps for the first time. the sound echoes around the kitchen, confined within the four walls of this room somehow even before you stifle the second scream. there’s a sleeping baby in the house after all, the last thing you need is for her to wake up and put an end to whatever this is until the awkwardness would push matty out of the house and possibly out of your life again—

your eyes scrunch shut as another lick makes your head spin.

“fa-faster,” you moan out and shamelessly throw a leg over his shoulder, holding onto his head so tight now that he surely feels the tug. if anything, his efforts double, and his tongue plunges deeper into you than before.

the world goes hazy and soft around the edges as your eyes roll back into your head.

fuck! he’s good… he’s always been good. he’s always known your body better than you have. besides, no one’s made you feel half as good in a year, no one besides your vibrator on occasional lonely nights.

“fuck, darling you’re perfect…” he breathes and the word echoes around in your head.

you were perfect. together. even after everything, nothing and no one can erase the that.

you swallow another cry and hold onto him tighter. your head buzzes and pleasure floods through your entire body until you’re chanting his name over and over again. somewhere through it all, you’re aware of grinding against his face like a wild animal in heat but his mouth keeps up with it. if anything, his thumb joins in, pressing on your clit, pinching it just so till you jerk and let go all over his tongue.

ecstasy replaces the blood in your veins, runs at lightning speeds and you feel as if you’re floating up, up and away if not for matty standing up, holding onto you, kissing you till you can taste yourself on his tongue—taste so much more that heat pools in your stomach again and you push your hands inside his t-shirt.

his whole body tenses, muscles taut against your hand until he’s practically vibrating and rigid.

“you really w-want this? me?”

the hope in his voice is barely controlled but you refuse to open your eyes. one look at him and you know your resolve will crumble and the tears will come. instead you push your face into the crook of his neck and nod.

“i’ve never been more sure of something…”

for a moment, his breathing stops completely and matty goes still—you can almost feel his heart stop too, almost feel the stuttering beat pounding right under the palm of your hand. then the spell breaks and the clinking of his belt buckle fills the room.

his lips press against the hollow of your throat, leaving wild, reckless marks behind before he moves over to where your pulse thrums wildly. his mouth finds the spot, sucks on it gently, and you find yourself losing in him once again.

you feel the hardness of his cock through the boxers and before you have the chance to touch him properly, matty pulls away slightly, making you look at him in confusion. it’s only when his hand reaches for his wallet do you realise that he’s pulling out a condom.

good. there should be some barrier between you. some semblance of a boundary even though it laughably flimsy and pathetic. and well, that lack of barrier is really what landed you here in the first place.

“i need—”

“yes,” he interrupts and goes in for another sloppy kiss.

your hands wander until you’re pulling his hard cock out, feeling him moan into the kiss and he reluctantly pulls away to put the condom on. the moment stretches on and suddenly this whole thing feels juvenile, like he’s your high school crush. like this is your first time. excitement bubbles up in your chest—dull but unmistakably there. maybe just this once, you let it surge.

as if in a daze, matty slides the stray hair off your shoulder, brushing away the strands until your shoulder is bared to him and kisses the exposed skin. goosebumps erupt in its wake.

the whole affair is silent—just moans and sighs and the sound of his shuddering breath before he’s slipping into you, deeper and deeper until all you feel is him and his heartbeat.

“fucking perfect, so fucking perfect…” he chants and thrusts again. and again. and again till your breathing becomes ragged and your head loses every thought once again, and then he’s the only person to matter in the world.

you’d die if he were to let go of you now.

his grip on you tightens and his pace becomes faster, hips slamming into yours until you’re both moaning and panting, until your face in in the crook of his neck, mouth against his neck. the kisses excite him more, make him shiver in delight, and somehow you feel him grow harder inside you—streching you out till you’re nearly in tears and crying out from pleasure that is almost overwhelming.

“matty, you’re—i’m—”

“can’t wait to feel you drenching my cock,” his voice turns into an unexpected growl and pleasure coils in your belly. his hand inches between your legs, fingers circling your clit until his thumb is pressing down on it once again and you mewl. his chest barely even stifles it.

“please…” you beg and get swept away by another feverish kiss. your head spins and matty’s saying something, he’s fucking into you so hard that you can barely hear a word over the obscene, wet sounds. or maybe it’s the blood rushing through your whole body that drowns it out.

none of it matters though, not when you feel white hot pleasure swirl through you and then you clench around him, hard enough that he cries out too. hard enough that you feel him cum despite the condom. and that’s what tips you over the edge.

matty keeps going through it, slamming into you until he eventually slows down, until he eventually stills but doesn’t pull out. you keep your eyes closed, chest heaving, breath mixing with his, bodies pressed together so tightly that you can practically feel the rush of his blood under his skin.

some pathetic part of your brain makes tears prick at your eyes and you finally open your eyes, taking just a second to look at his face. there are lines etches into his forehead now—deep grooves that used to be much softer. a reminder of all the time that’s passed. his sweaty curls stick to his forehead, much more grey than before. much messier. still, he's as beautiful as ever, as beautiful as a forbidden fruit.

then he opens his eyes too and the breath truly gets knocked out of you.

after all this time, his eyes are the same warm hazel. the same eyes you look into every day. mia’s eyes. matty’s eyes.

for a moment, the room feels colder. the orange hue feels odd and unnatural but it’s just a trick of the light, just a trick of an overthinking mind.

“we—”

“don’t,” you interrupt quickly. “please, just… let me stay like this. let me have this memory.”

matty hmms, then moves his hand to the back of your head, fingers in your hair until you feel something wet on your cheeks, on your shoulders. until you feel his body shaking. you don’t look up. you don’t try to console him either. you just stay like that, breathe him in until your lungs feel full enough to burst.

you know how this ends. deep down, you’ve always known it.

still, letting go of him feels like plunging a knife in your chest.

there will be a part 3, this was getting too long.

lemme know what you think <33

taglist: @scooby-doodoo, @partoftheairforce, @justgoatsbreakinghearts0855@beachesgetpeaches, @you-muppet, @mcabister, @alexmarie29, @at-her-very-foreign, @hfkait, @squishysoupy@sierraeslaprincesa@harrie-fic-center @alien-girl-violet@thereisaplaceintheheart @kennedy-brooke @lolidontknowanymore @theoriginalwhatsername@celestcies @sugarkane1001 @ari-turner @thewaywewereinsaigon @daphnesutton @beliefandsayingsomething @ros3chu @nothingrevealedeverythingdenied @zzzhealy @mattymybeloved @fck-off @indiaamars @sofaritsalrightt @k4tie75 @wondersecret @humptyhoran @indierockgirrl @hanbiior @moreyoulove-moreyouknow @rossgirly @if-my-heart-bleeds @little-lovely-darling @abriefnirvana @renitypoem @sinarainbows @lady-may-targaryen @love4agesss @angrylittlebaldman

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#read the cws pls!!!#matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #angst #minors do not interact #matty x reader #matty x you #smut

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xo-myloves · 30 days ago

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You up for angst w/ slash?? Like y/n finding out somewhere she was cheated on by slash (a call from a friend or magazine idk) and he comes back from tour and they have an ugly breakup and they say mean things to eachother that they dont mean 😮‍💨😮‍💨

OMFG I LOVE THIS, 😋😋

𝙾𝙽𝙲𝙴 𝙰 𝙻𝙾𝚅𝙴, 𝙽𝙾𝚆 𝙰 𝙵𝙰𝙺𝙴

i've been waiting for slash to come home from tour for months now, he is on tour around the world for the “use your illusion” album, I could tell he was drained, every time we would call, it would either be short or just boring.

I missed him so much, I just wish he would at least have one day off when he was in America, but he wasn’t going to be in California for another two weeks, and I need him.

So fucking bad.

I had that feeling a few times, where all I wanted was his touch, and my hands weren’t doing it, not even toys, I thought about calling slash a few times, but I just never did because the different time zones would always be way off.

But it was still early in the day, and he was in Lithuania at the moment, and it’s a ten hour difference, and it was two in the morning for him, and I was horny so I fucking called him.

“Slash?” I called him on my phone that was beside my bed, it rung a few times before I heard the dial tone make a “click” sound, I heard a few mumbles before I spoke again.

“Were you sleeping?” I spoke into the phone that was full of mumbles, “yeah I was, is everything okay?” He kinda seemed a bit upset, but he was still being sweet.

“Slash I need you.” I blurted out, and I swear I could feel a smirk come onto his face, and I could hear him waking up more. “Hmm what do you need hun?” He spoke into a cocky tone.

I rolled my eyes at his comment, I knew I sound desperate but he’s my man and I need him, that shouldn’t be a fucking issue.

“Slash, I need you, your voice..” I spoke into a lower tone, almost a whisper.

“What, I’m talking right now?” He kept up this cocky act, making me want to punch him through the phone, “slash, I’m begging you.” I whined to him, kicking my feet under my blanket.

“what, you want me to tell you that I’m gonna fuck you so good that you’re gonna cum all over my cock, more than once, and again after that, using you like you’re my doll?”

His words hit me like a fucking truck.

I felt my heat starting to pool down my legs, I let out a soft gasp as he spoke, they I began to quite literally rip my underwear off of my being, I heard little slight chuckles from his side of his receiver.

“Keep talking slash, please baby.” I said in an almost moaning way, my hand immediately went to my clit and envisioned it was him, rolling my eyes back slightly.

“So pathetic you are, touching yourself just to my voice, how cute.” He gritted through his teeth, little did I know, he was stroking his member as well, I just moaned into the phone, my hand going faster in my numb.

“fucking Christ slash.” I mumbled under my breath, barely being able to form words, I heard him groan on the other line. “Keep doing that love.” He whined softly, I could tell his cocky persona was drifting away.

I began moaning louder as my hand went faster with bigger circles, I could start hearing his hands pumping himself faster, having his balls slap against his hand.

Hearing him was only making my high closer and his little grunts and whimpers were heavily, he was always so vocal.

“I can’t wait to fuck you like my little slut again baby.” He moaned before climaxing all over his hand, my release was followed by his, after a few more circles, having my sweet release all over my hand, leaving my legs shaking.

“I miss you baby, sorry for the late call.” I breathed out, I heard him chuckling, “don’t be sorry, you just made my night.” I felt myself smiling, knowing I could have my man finally in a few weeks…..

𝚊 𝚏𝚎𝚠 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛

I was sitting at home, still remembering the night I had with my beautiful curly haired boyfriend, I couldn’t even put it in words how much I missed him, how much I needed him, after that night I just had so many memories of us together and all the dates we’ve had.

He’s always been a good man to me, always taking care of me when I need, and I took care of him, if he was ever going through withdrawals I would be there.

I hated seeing him like that, it broke my heart, he seemed to care about me and love me as well.

Well I hope he does at least, normally I’m not with him on tour, but duff would give me updates if he was fucking up, in any way, if it was with drugs or getting too close to women, which rarely happened.

I was watching a “The Shinning” while sitting on the couch that was shared with slash and myself, before hearing my house phone going off, I looked over dreading to get up from my comfortable position.

But when I finally made my way to the phone, I leaned against the wall that the phone was on and picking it up, to only find out it was Mr duff mckagan!!

I loved talking to duff, me and him have been best friends since childhood, and he would do anything for me and tell me anything……

𝙳𝚞𝚏𝚏: 𝙷𝚎𝚢 𝚢/𝚗

𝚈/𝚗: 𝚑𝚒𝚒𝚒𝚒 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚔𝚊𝚢?

𝙳𝚞𝚏𝚏: 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚗𝚘, 𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚜𝚗'𝚝..

𝚈/𝚗: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚠𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚐

𝙳𝚞𝚏𝚏: 𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚑 𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚞𝚙 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎...

My heart sank as duff spoke, I almost dropped the phone, I didn’t know if I wanted to cry, hurt him, be mad, be forgiving, definitely not that, I had a million thoughts in my head in this moment, I need him home right now, I need him to explain,or at least why he would do that.

I almost forgot that duff was on the phone, I finally snapped out of my thoughts, with hearing him speak into the phone a few times.

𝚈/𝚗: 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢, 𝚞𝚑-, 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚎, 𝚘𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚘, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚢?

𝚍𝚞𝚏𝚏: 𝚒 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚒𝚝, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚠 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚒𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚔, 𝚊𝚗𝚏 𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜𝚗𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚔𝚍 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚒𝚗 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗....

I took in his words, wanting to cry even more now, I felt pools form in the corners of my eyes, I just wanted to hurt someone, and know why the fuck he would do this to me.

After fucking everything I did for that prick.

after talking to duff for a few more minutes, not trying to lash out on him. He was trying to calm me down for the most part, which was sweet of him.

He told me that shouldn’t freak out on him yet, at least wait till he gets home. Which is exactly what I’m going to do.

𝚃𝚠𝚘 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚜 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛

it’s finally the day slash is coming home, I was sitting in the couch, sitting in my pajamas still, my blood was boiling, my face was hot, I genuinely wanted to hurt him, degrade him, anything possible.

I heard a loud sounds coming from the door, keys dinging, my head peaked up, seeing a huge curly mess walking through the door.

“Hey babe, I’m home.” Slash spoke in a happy tone, he immediately came to the couch, sitting with me, hugging my waist, I didn’t hug him back.

He frowned his eyes brows, with a pouted lip, “what’s wrong, I thought you missed me?” She tilted his head, trying to read my emotion in this moment.

“Wanna know what’s wrong?” I gritted through my teeth in a harsh tone. He hummed in response wanting to see what’s wrong. I felt myself getting more angry, I hated when he played dumb.

“Maybe because you fucked another bitch!” I pushed him out of my way, getting off of the couch, he immediately stood up, already defending himself.

“What’s the fuck are you talking about? I didn’t sleep with anyone, who told you this?!” He looked at me with a worried look, I didn’t believe one second of his bullshit.

“Duff fucking told me, that he saw you in bed, with another woman!” I spat in his face, my words hit him like a truck. His eyes went black.

“You’re believing a fucking alcoholic?! He was probably saying that so he could fuck you!” He argued with me, I wanted to fucking slap him right then and there.

“YOUR JUST FUCKING MAD BECAUSE YOU GOT CAUGHT!” I yelled at him, throwing my hands in the air, he got closer to me, speaking in a lower tone.

“I’m not fucking mad, I’m confused why you aren’t believing you’re boyfriend who is telling you I didn’t fucking sleep with anyone, I bet you fucking did, I bet you fucked duff, that’s all you are, just a fucking WHORE!” He made the last part of sentence louder than any other word. His words cut me like a razor.

Why would he say such a thing, calling me a “whore”? He never got nasty with me, especially like this….

“I didn’t sleep with duff, but YOU slept with some bitch, I’d rather you just FUCKING TELL ME.” I yelled in his face once again.

“Okay, whatever you say, but don’t fucking call me when you need more dick slut!” He yelled in my face, before grabbing his bag and leaving the house again, and slamming the door.

All I wanted to do was cry, his words were honestly so fucking hurtful.

༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

Slash didn’t mean a damn word he said, he just didn’t know what else to say, he was angry, he loved her with his whole heart, he just wanted to come home and love on his girlfriend, he knew duff always had a thing for y/n, he was always trying to steal her from slash.

He knew duff was lying.

Now he lost the only girl he has ever loved…

#music #80s #actually mentally ill #omg slash #slash #slash serpentine🐍#slash guns n roses #slash gnr #slash fanfiction #slash smut #gnr fanfiction #fanfic #smut #gnr #gnr x reader #gnr smut #duff gnr #duff mckagan

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darlingsfandom · 4 months ago

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hiya!! would you be willing to write a fic about reader feeling insecure about changing in front of Cilian and he makes sure she never feels insecure around him ever again!!? Thanks x

hi! I sure can!

TW: body image issues, ED hints!

Fluffy !

It’s always been in your head or so everyone said. It had been a problem since you were in middle school and now you’re in your late twenties. Food was a friend and a foe! You watched how your body changed over the years, parts started to sag… other parts gained freckles, your body wasn’t always your friend. You had a love hate relationship with your body. No matter what you did, it never felt right.

“What are yer doin?” Cillian broke your train of thought by poking your shoulder repeatedly until you looked up at him with slight annoyance lurking in your eyes.

“Reading.” You held up the book in your hands but he grabbed it, made sure to bookmark it and set it down on the bedside table before pressing his lips onto the side of your neck. It sent a shiver down your spine but you couldn’t get out of the headspace that you were ugly. That your body is disgusting. How could Cillian even be attracted to you ? His lips moved down to your collar bone and instead of letting out a whimper or a moan, a tear fell down your cheek. Cillian looked up at you and his eyes went from dark to concerned in the blink of an eye. His hands cupped your cheeks gently while he looked into your eyes.

“Yer havin yer doubts aren’t ya?” He ran his hand through your hair slowly while caressing your cheek with your other hand. “I know ya get in dat pretty little head of yers now and then and it’s one of those moments.” He pressed his lips into your forehead before pulling away to look you up and down.

“I just don’t get how you’re attracted to me! There’s so many pretty girls in the world who don’t weigh as much as a whale and you could be with them!” You sighed heavily feeling the tears fall down your heated cheeks.

“I have da prettiest girl in da world! Yer beautiful and no one can change my mind. Come with me.” Cillian helped you onto your feet and walked you over the mirror. He pulled off your shirt to expose your breasts but you quickly covered them only for Cillian to sigh. “Doll ya have to try this wit me.”

You let out a small hiccup of tears as he grabbed your hands and pulled them down. He had you looking at your body in a way you never looked at it before. He stood behind you humming quietly. Every time you tried to look away he’d have you turn your head back to look in the mirror. He wanted you to see the beauty inside of you pour out of you to make the connection to the outer beauty that they were the same thing! You held up your hand and placed it on your chest only for Cillian to place his hand over yours.

The two of you stood silently for awhile soaking in each others warmth. Cillian reached down and helped you undress your bottom half slowly so you had no choice but to look at yourself naked. You turned your head away when he touched your hips but he made you look.

“Every inch of ya, every part of ya… is beautiful. I know ya’ r heard otherwise but beauty is in the eye of the beholder and I have a lot to behold! Yer beautiful inside and out! Yes yer hips are wide, ya got some stretch marks but ya are the most generous, loving, kind, amazin person I’ve ever met.” Cillian laid his head on your shoulder while you cried. He loved that you were comfortable enough to express your emotions to him , he didn’t care if they were good or bad he wanted to know so he could help you if you needed him.

“But if I had a better relationship with food..”

“Hush! Yer workin on it baby, all progress takes time! Progress is not linear ! Yer gonna have bad days and I’ll be there for ya! Ya never credit yerself for all the hard times ya’ ve been through and I wish ya would .” He kissed the top of your head before placing his hands on your shoulders. Cillian squeezed them softly while rubbing down your arms. “I want ya to look in the mirror and tell me one! Just one” he held up his finger . “Positive thing about yerself.”

You stood quietly with wandering eyes to look at your naked body. He watched you in the mirror carefully. Your lips opened then closed before sighing. You wanted to give up and say nothing but you knew Cillian wouldn’t allow that. He was patient with you . He wanted you to feel loved , cared for and beautiful !

“My nipples are a pretty shade of pink!” You spoked almost in a whisper but he still heard you. A small smile crept on his lips before he turned you around to kiss you passionately on the lips.

“Dats my girl! Now every day I want you to say one nice thing about yerself okay! I know ya can do it! Even if it’s somethin’ small.” Cillian walked you back to the bed and laid you against the sheets before he got back into bed as well. His hand rested on your thigh as he handed you back your back he kissed you again. “Even the smallest things hold da most beauty, don’t ya forget dat my beautiful girl.”

#cillian murphy #emsblurbs #au cillian murphy #cillian murphy au #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy masterlist #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy x fem!reader #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy fluff

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loggiepj · 1 year ago

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one day

Summary : Just a short fluff.

The scary thing about falling in love — it had a funny way of sneaking up behind your back when you least expected it. It would claw its way into your heart, build a fort there, take a big portion of space, and probably, either if you're lucky or unlucky, would stay there forever.

At least that's what Wanda felt when she first saw you.

It started when you and your family moved into the house just next to them. It was a rainy Sunday afternoon. Wanda and her twin brother, Pietro, were just fourteen years old. She could tell you were around the same age as well.

You were totally drenched as you helped your parents drag stuff after stuff into your new home.

"Y/n/n, hurry, you're going to be sick!" your mother called out from your doorstep.

Y/n/n. Y/n/n. Wanda could immediately tell your nickname suited you.

You wore a simple white shirt with a colorful rainbow printed on the back, making Wanda wonder about something. You laughed at your mother's scoldings as you carried in your arms a baseball bat, a cassette player and what seemed to be a huge telescope.

What struck Wanda speechless was the way you looked different. And there's something about your smile as you smiled back at your mother that made Wanda's heart skip a beat.

The word beautiful wasn't always in Wanda's vocabulary until that day. It was as if everything else seemed ugly and dull in comparison to you.

You had Y/e/c eyes and y/h/c hair tied in a bun. She immediately imagined how it would look like without the hairtie, how it would feel in her hands when she would thread her fingers through it. She wondered if you'd be okay with her brushing or caressing your hair until you fell asleep.

Wanda didn't even realize she was staring until Pietro made a comment about a drool he saw on her lips. He ended up with a small bruise on his arm that day from Wanda's punch.

Later that night, Wanda didn't even expect they'd have visitors as she came running down the stairs for dinner. But when she immediately saw your face, she stopped on her tracks. Frozen.

It turned out their ever kind and hospitable mother invited the new neighbors for a dinner. A sort of welcoming present.

Wanda's eyes went to send daggers towards a snickering Pietro, immediately knowing he was the one who suggested the dinner this time.

When your mother introduced yourselves to each other, Wanda couldn't stop repeating your full name inside her head, swearing she could have said your name out loud.

Wanda acted different that evening, not when she was seated next to you. She could even pass as stupid, when you asked for the bowl of mashed potatoes near hers yet she gave you her own plate instead.

Before she slept that night, Wanda made a comment to her brother about something weird with the food and what it was doing to her stomach.

It took her a moment to realize that the weird thing she felt inside her were butterflies fluttering all along.

Of course, you'd go to the same school she and her brother went to. It was the nearest one in the neighborhood. Wanda and Pietro rode their bicycles to get there every morning.

Wanda tried to avoid interacting with you, not because you were too pretty for her liking, but because she didn't want you to know how she was treated in the school, or at least by the evil classmates that she had, Natasha, Yelena and Maria. From how thick they put their makeups on, they could be mistaken as seniors.

"Oh, it's the witch again," Natasha sneered the moment Wanda entered the classroom. The joke made everyone laugh. Well, everyone except you.

When your eyes met, Wanda wanted to just run away and disappear from shame and everything. But she had to attend the class or she'd fail that year.

"Beware of her, Y/n/n," Yelena added as Wanda made her way to her seat. "She'd put a curse on you when you say something bad about her."

Wanda tried not to listen. She had grown immune to all the teasings about her.

It started when she went as a witch for a Halloween event back in grade school. Every girl that time were either a princess or a fairy. She was the only one who wore differently. And it wasn't even the beautiful sexy kind of witch, but the one with the green face and pointed nose.

Her brother was unscathed. But of course, he was a boy. Of course, he'd be safe. Unlike her, he was popular with kids. If it weren't for Pietro, she'd be bullied physically by her peers and not just with words.

"That's okay. I love witches," you said back with a smile, making Wanda turn her head towards you.

That must have been the first moment she fell in love with you.

You were different as years passed by. You talked to Wanda as if she wasn't weird. You even biked to school together with her and Pietro. You excelled both academically and in sports, making you popular in just a short time. But what made you more popular that Wanda would hear your name whispered in the school's comfort room or even the library was how you only liked girls.

That made Wanda wonder if all your lingering looks at her she swore she saw meant something. The electric touches. The awkward stutterings whenever you two were left alone by Pietro in their house some days you three decided to watch a horror movie together. And mostly, the way you'd come to her rescue like her knight in shining armor whenever the evil three were present and bullying her.

But she knew she wouldn't ask you out. She wouldn't risk losing your friendship. Especially when she revealed to you that she liked girls too after some guy named Vision asked her as dance partner in your junior prom and she declined, making you ask her why.

For years, Wanda stayed on the sidelines as she watched girl after girl threw themselves at you. She had gotten used to it, how you return their advances yet not too far as meeting their suspecting kisses. She thought her feelings were gone until you finally went out with a senior and dated her for a good couple of months. That must have been Wanda's first heartbreak.

Yet she didn't know she could be any happier than what she felt when news of your breakup spread out so fast.

But Wanda still didn't make a move.

Until it was senior prom. Wanda wasn't looking forward to attend it at all.

"But sis, it's our last year," Pietro insisted. "We wouldn't get to do this when we finally head to college."

"Come on, Piet," Wanda replied, turning the page of the book she was reading. "It's not like I'd miss anything special. Besides, I don't even have a dress and prom's two days away."

Pietro sighed. "You know Mom could always make a way for you when you just asked for it."

"Ask for what? What did I miss?" Your voice made itself known, making Wanda tear her glance away from the book to look at you as you entered then sat on the floor beside Wanda's bed.

"Wanda's not attending prom," Pietro confided, making Wanda threw the nearest pillow at him.

"What?" you asked, then you looked at Wanda. "But it's our last year, Wands. You wouldn't want to miss it."

As much as she'd miss hearing you call her name like that, she'd rather stay at home than watch dancers on the dance floor while she'd be left alone on the bleachers.

"That's what I was trying to tell her," Pietro said as he made his way out the door. "Now I have a party to attend to. And you," he pointed at you, "have a lot of convincing to do."

Then you and Wanda were left alone.

"I know what you're going to say," Wanda muttered as she opened back her book. "And my word is final. I'm not going to attend the prom when those cruel stepsisters of Cinderella are present."

You softly chuckled as you stood. Then you made your way to her cassette player where a cassette tape that you made and gave her last Christmas was already inserted inside. You smiled as you hit the play button.

Wanda's favorite song began playing. She had listened to that song on repeat for days now.

You walked towards where she was sitting then held out your hand.

"Can I have this dance, then?" you said with conviction.

"W-What?"

You smiled. "Would you do me the honors of being your first prom partner?"

It rendered Wanda speechless.

"C'mon, no evil stepsisters are invited in this room," you added.

She softly giggled as she finally got off the bed and took your hand.

It was the dance of her lifetime, nothing comparable to any prom there was in the world. You and Wanda danced and danced for what must have been an hour.

When a slow song came into the background, Wanda swore the tension thickening when she caught you staring at her lips and almost leaning closer towards her. She could even feel the wonderful warmth exuding from your body as you both pressed against each other.

Wanda swore that could have been her first kiss. But Pietro suddenly entered the room, complaining how the party ended so quick.

When you finally had the courage to ask Wanda out, she felt like she had grown wings and she could fly. It was as if you had finally heard her whispered prayers and opened your eyes to see her — the one who will willingly love you until her dying breath.

In a sea of people, you were the most gentleman and sweetest person she had ever known. You took her to see the movies. Then afterwards, you brought her to your backyard where a candle-lit dinner was prepared. You both watched the stars that night. And Wanda had a chance to see how huge the craters were on the moon through your telescope.

Wanda couldn't forget her first kiss with you.

It happened when you two were baking cookies for the school's charity event. She didn't even know she had chocolate left on the corner of her lips from having to taste test the first batch. All she could remember was how you nonchalantly wiped the thing off her mouth with your thumb after which you sucked it clean.

You let out a small moan, too soft she thought she was only imagining. You had no idea, of course. Completely unaware that two darkened eyes followed the tip of your thumb as you took it off your mouth. Not seeing how Wanda was biting her lower lip from said action, stopping herself from doing anything stupid. You were totally oblivious of the effect you had on her.

And Wanda couldn't control herself anymore as she pressed her lips on yours. It seemed as if time stopped as she pulled away and watched your surprised state. And when apology was already on the tip of her tongue, you pulled her back and kissed her. You kissed her the way she deserved to be kissed.

Wanda learned how soft your lips were that day. And how perfect yours and hers fit against each other as you made out all afternoon. How she learned that tongues had the most amazing muscle in the world.

For which she had concluded later on.

"Y/n/n," Wanda moaned one night with your head between her legs. It was when you and Wanda stayed in a hotel as you headed to visit the University you both were planning to attend. Pietro was just in the other room.

"Please don't stop, please don't stop..." Wanda held your head, grinding herself shamelessly against your face. You had no plan on stopping anyway after you made her come for the nth time that night. At least, Pietro's scoldings the following day about how he wasn't able to sleep well from all the noise were all worth it.

Years later and it was still Pietro's complaints when he and his family decided to spend the holidays with yours. To be completely honest, Wanda expected you and her would be alone when Pietro offered to take your twins to go sledding and not even five minutes after they had left the driveway, you and Wanda were shedding all of your clothes off in haste, hungry mouths drinking each other.

"Hey," Pietro called, snapping his fingers in front of Wanda. "I can see the drool all over your mouth."

Wanda blinked, her hand instinctively went to wipe what wasn't there. When she saw Pietro holding his laugh, her hand curled into a fist as she punched his arm.

"Ow! That hurt!"

"Well, you deserved it!"

Pietro complained as he massaged his arm, "Well, it's also not my fault you're ogling your eyes at our new neighbor."

"Ogling? I wasn't ogling—"

When Wanda attempted to go closer towards her brother, Pietro immediately ran out of her bedroom, screaming for help.

Wanda shut her bedroom door with a loud thud as her eyes went back outside her window. You were still standing, drenched in the rain, as you waited for your father to untie more boxes you'd be carrying inside.

She knew then from that moment on, you'd be important in her life. And she was going to make you hers one day, even when it would probably take her years.

#wanda maximoff x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda #short prompt #elizabeth olsen

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quack-quack-snacks · 1 month ago

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Time Will Tell - Chapter 1.27

My Time Will Tell Masterlist

My Cha Hyun-su Masterlist

My Navigation and Masterlist

The Time Will Tell Glossary

Warnings: Character death, Hyun-su cutting his hair tehe. Word Count: 1,625

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You were getting a little worried, having walked around for ten minutes trying to find Hyun-su to no avail. Your mind went to every terrible possibility and it made that ugly beast of anxiety stir in your stomach.

“Cha Hyun-su!” You called out, still walking down and looking through every room. The only rooms you hadn’t checked were the ones down the hallway you walked down which included the men’s bathroom and a random janitorial closet. “Cha Hyun-su! Cha Hyun-s-” You cut yourself off when you passed by him and saw his green sweater in the corner of your eye. “Cha Hyun-su? What are you doing? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“Oh… I’m sorry,” he said, looking at you sheepishly. It was in that next moment that you noticed the large pile of hair sitting atop the counter and the lack of hair on his head. He still held the scissors he used and you had to physically shut your open mouth.

“Oh… Um… Wow. I’ve never seen you with such short hair,” you exclaimed, still semi-in shock and looking at him oddly. The hair wasn’t very well cut yet but the sight of him with it made your heart race. He was always cute in your eyes, even with the long hair, but you couldn’t get over the way his hair looked when it was shorter. “Do you… Do you need any help? I used to cut Yeong-su’s hair so I know a thing or two about being a barber,” you said after snapping out of your short daze from his new appearance.

He was silent for a moment before answering. “That’s okay, you don’t need to.”

“Please, I insist.”

His face showed the conflict he felt between wanting you to do his hair and not wanting to bother you. After a long while of you patiently staring at him, waiting for him to make his decision, he gave a slight nod and slowly held the scissors out for you to take. A smile brightened your face when he did and you could see a light pink color on his cheeks, but you could’ve been imagining it.

He started walking back into the bathroom and you followed. When you got in, you stretched up and started cutting his hair, but you winced when the skin of your abdomen started stretching, pulling on your wound.

“Are you okay?” He asked immediately, gently grabbing your wrist to stop your cutting and looking into your eyes.

“Yeah, it doesn’t hurt that badly, it’s just a little sting,” you told him.

Liar.

He looked at you and you could tell he didn’t believe you. That was solidified when he walked out of the bathroom without a word. At first, you sighed and looked down, angry at yourself for what you thought was disappointing him; then, he came back in with a metal folding chair in his hands and placed it down in front of the mirror, making it easier for you to cut without having to stretch your abdomen at all.

“Thank you,” you said and he nodded, looking away to hide his face. It was something you noticed he did a lot in your presence and it made you smile every time.

The process of you cutting his hair was fairly quiet. He sat and watched you through the mirror as you worked. He wasn’t focused on his hair at all; how could he be when the girl cutting it was none other than the most beautiful girl he had ever seen?

The actual cutting of his hair was a little difficult considering you had to use one hand for the entirety of the haircut because of the injured knuckles of your non-dominant hand, but you did pretty well all things considered.

Both of you were a bit disappointed when you finished the last section of hair and the mini barber shop appointment ended.

“What do you think?” You asked nervously, placing the scissors down on the sink countertop and waiting for his answer anxiously.

He just stared at himself for a while and you couldn’t decipher what he was thinking with his blank face. His eyes were the only thing that showed any emotion but even they were difficult to figure out. The only emotions you thought you could see were things like nostalgia and a hint of… anger? It didn’t seem like anger at his hair or anything but rather a person or thing from his life in the past.

His eyes slowly looked up to connect with yours through the mirror. You could clearly see his chocolate brown gaze shifting from whatever other emotions he felt to fondness and gratefulness. “I love it. Thank you.”

You smiled widely. “I’m so glad.”

A silence fell over the two of you as you stared into the other’s eyes, studying the colors like you wanted to memorize them forever. You realized that despite knowing him for barely over a month, you would do anything for this boy, and the thought simultaneously scared the shit out of you and made you feel more love in your heart than you've ever felt before.

A silly, selfish part of you wished and hoped that he felt the same way.

You stood by the elevator and waited with your back to the wall. Because of the soldier arriving and a scare from his walkie-talkie, Hyun-su and Sang-wook were about to head up to the roof and take down the SOS sign. You were just waiting for them to get there so you could say goodbye.

When they did arrive, Hyun-su saw you first and approached with an apprehensive look. “If you’re wanting to come with us, I ca-”

“I’m not wanting to come with you,” you interrupted to reassure him. He sighed in relief but then his face changed to one of confusion.

“Then why are you here?”

You hesitated and you were sure it showed on your face when his eyes went from confused to concerned. Eventually, you just decided to do it and you took a step toward him and wrapped your arms around his waist. While burying your face in his sweater, you could feel how he tensed under your touch. Immediately, you went to pull away, worried that you crossed a boundary, but his arms wrapped around your back and pulled you back in as gently as he could. He made sure to completely avoid touching your side when he squeezed you against him. You sighed in relief at the contact and wished the moment would last forever.

It couldn't, though, of course, and you reluctantly pulled away from Hyun-su to look at him. “Be safe, okay?”

He nodded and you stepped back to give him space to enter the elevator along with Sang-wook. He did so slowly and kept his gaze on you until the elevator doors closed and you were left staring at them in silence.

When the alarm went off, you were sitting in the nursery with your siblings. You were reading the book ‘The Giving Tree’ to them and answering any questions they had. As soon as you heard it, though, you immediately went into protective panic mode. You grabbed your axe and hurried the kids over to the corner of the room away from the entrance.

“Stay there, you understand?” You asked them. They stayed silent and you sighed before kissing their foreheads. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. You will stay here and not move, you got it? This is very important so I need to know you understand me. Do you?” You asked again. This time they reluctantly nodded and Su-yeong grabbed Yeong-su’s hand tightly.

With that, you left the room and locked the door from the inside on your way out. Then, you started heading where you heard screaming.

When you got there, out of breath from your sprint over and your side screaming from the pain, you saw Jae-heon fighting with only one arm against a fly-ridden monster. The other shoulder where his right warm was supposed to be was cut off at the shoulder and was bleeding vigorously. He was leading him backward towards the elevator and you did the first thing you could think of.

You threw your axe at the monster. It landed dead on its temple but seemed to do nothing to stop it. You started running forward but got held back by Eun-hyuk who then yelled for Jae-hwan to help him as Jae-heon shoved the monster into the elevator and started yelling for Seung-wan to throw the Molotov cocktail.

“Throw it!” He begged and your eyes started watering as you fought against the people holding you back.

“Let me go! He needs help! Why aren’t you helping him?” You pleaded but they ignored you. Eun-hyuk handed you off to Jae-hwan as he held you back tightly. When you started struggling too much and nearly got out of his grip, he slammed his palm against the wound on your side. The pain incapacitated you and you gasped for air, falling to the ground and he finally let go of you since you were no longer a danger to yourself or anyone else.

You could only watch in agony as Eun-hyuk was the one to throw the cocktail at Jae-heon and put him out of his misery. Though, you wouldn’t call it an act of mercy, since a death by fire would be a painful one. You sobbed as you watched the fire spread around him and burn and burn until the elevator doors closed, locking them inside together. It was always the ones who deserved to live the most that got the worst treatment in life.

And this time, in death.

Finally updated! Sorry everyone for the wait school's been kicking my ass.

Taglist <3

@hyeon-yi

@haowonbins

@mythical-mushrooms13

@visualconcern

@yomsy

#time will tell 💌 quack quack snacks #sweet home #cha hyunsu #cha hyun su #cha hyun su x reader #cha hyunsoo #cha hyunsu x reader #cha hyunsoo x reader #cha hyun soo

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johnwickluva · 1 month ago

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Cleaner

Summary: you’re a cleaner and you fuck John Wick. Smut 18+

Word count: 1.6k

AN: whoever sent in this request god bless you bc this is what I do for a living. I posted this but wanted to tweak it a bit so here’s a reupload.

You were laying in bed when you got a text from your boss.

You know that big house in Mill Neck? Need someone to clean, you were requested.

You raised your eyebrow at the text. Requested? Well it made sense, you had actually become friends with the owner of the house, John. He was a widow who lived alone in a huge, beautiful house. It took you about two hours to clean the place. You were actually excited to go to work.

You got up and got into your ugly company uniform. It made you cringe when you wore it, you wished he could see you in your clothes that you wore everyday. You looked much better. Looking at yourself over one more time you decided you looked good enough. When you were ready you headed out the door and got in your car.

The drive there was twenty minutes and you couldn’t help but daydream. John was a handsome man that you felt like you flirted with. Everyone else at the shop, your coworkers, would say he was silent and didn’t speak to them besides to greet them and say thanks and goodbye. When you worked though, the two of you would have conversations, ones that would leave you blushing.

You pulled up to his house and grabbed all your supplies.

“Hello! New York cleaning!” You announced while walking in.

“Welcome.” He said with a smile. “You look beautiful today.”

Already with the compliments.

“Thanks and you don’t look too bad yourself.” You responded.

Something felt different about this time. You don’t know what it was but the atmosphere felt heavy. John was staring at you unabashedly, in a way you’d never seen him stare at you before. The two of you made your way into the kitchen and you set your stuff down. You were looking down in your bin for a rag and cleaner when he asked you a question.

“Would you like a coffee?”

You thought about it for a moment before nodding your head yes. John made his way to his cabinet and pulled out two coffee cups.

“You don’t have to start yet. We can have a cup of coffee first.” He offered, sounding just a little shy.

“Okay.”

The two of you just made small chit chat while John couldn’t stop complimenting you. This wasn’t unusual but he was definitely more bold today. Every time he complimented you, you’d give one right back. When the two of you finished your coffees you grabbed both your mugs and started to hand wash them.

Although washing dishes wasn’t in the contract you did while you were here, liking to do extra for John. You grabbed the towel he kept by the stove to dry the glasses and put them away. When you turned to look at him he was really close to you. His hand came to caress the side of your face.

“Normally I’m not so bold, but you bring something out in me.”

“In this uniform?” You asked.

He chuckled.

“You still look like a piece of art.”

John came closer and grabbed your hips before bringing his lips to your ear.

“How long are we gonna play this game?” He asked.

You felt yourself grow wet.

“I haven’t showered yet I need…” you stopped as you heard him growl.

John’s dirty little secret. He grabbed the sides of your face and pulled you into a kiss. He sucked on your bottom lip before licking it. You gasped and he shoved his tongue into your mouth. Yours immediately came to greet his and they swirled together. His hand went down to rub you through your pants.

You groaned out and let him do what he wanted because it felt so good.

“So you’re a dirty man?” You moaned against his lips.

John twirled you around and pinned you to the island, bending you over.

“Yeah.”

His hands held your arms to the table. He pulled your pants down and felt yourself get wetter at the action. He let his fingers explore your folds before his hand came up to rub your clit. A moan left your throat as his fingers worked slowly. You couldn’t believe this was happening. When you were wet enough, he took two fingers and started to pump them in you.

“You like that?” He asked.

“Yes. Fuck yes.” You groaned, hitting your forehead on the marble.

This was not what you were expecting to happen when you came into work today but you were sure glad you took the call in. His thumb rubbed your clit every time he fucked you with his fingers. He sped up his pace and tried to get them in as deep as he could. You were a moaning mess.

If it wasn’t for him holding you up, you think you would’ve fallen to the floor. Your thighs and legs were shaking as he fingered you. You were so wet and warm, he couldn’t wait to put himself inside you. He almost groaned at the thought. After about five minutes you felt the coil in your belly tighten and snap.

You let out a loud moan as you thrust yourself against John’s fingers, essentially fucking yourself with his digits. He moaned at the sight before pulling his fingers out and bringing them up to his lips. He licked his fingers clean, all while groaning. You tasted fantastic. Then you heard him zip down his pants and them hit the floor.

You fantasized about this all the time and it was finally coming true. Then you felt the tip of John’s penis drag from your vaginal opening to your clit before back down. You could tell he was thick and big. He was toying with you and you couldn’t help but shake your ass a bit, tempting him on. You pushed back and felt him enter you.

“Shit…” He shuddered.

Within seconds John was pumping in and out of you. You were moaning and groaning as you had never felt such pleasure and so full before. He was definitely the biggest man you had ever been with. It was a lovely feeling. His hands were on your hips as he pulled you onto him and then pushed you off. Your hands scratched at the marble counter.

John was grunting out with every thrust. The two of you were fucking like animals. You couldn’t help but wonder if your boss had any idea what was going on. Probably not and it just made the whole situation ten times hotter. You hoped this would become a regular thing. He picked up his pace and squeezed your ass.

The fat flesh in the palm of John’s hands mesmerized him. He leaned down so his chest was pressed up against your back and his hand snuck in between you to mess with your clit. You cried out and arched into him. His fingers and hips worked fast, trying to bring you to another orgasm.

“Fuck you feel so good.” He grunted out.

“Oh god…”

You felt the pressure again and grabbed onto the ledge, the fiery explosion running throughout your whole body. Your body jerked and twitched as he held onto your body, continuing to rub your clit. A squeak left you as you were extremely sensitive. You felt like your legs were going to give out and we’re glad he was holding you up.

Within seconds his hips twitched and he pulled out, jerking off fast before coming into his own hands with a long groan. You held onto the ledge of the counter and felt yourself sticking from your sweat. He helped you up and you stumbled a bit. You smiled at him and kissed him, deeply.

Nobody had ever made you feel so good.

John pulled away, letting out a chuckle and washed his hands. Then he pulled his pants back up and helped you pull yours up as well. He grabbed your ass one more time and gave you a quick peck on your lips.

“Do you fuck all your cleaning ladies?” You asked, joking but secretly hoping this was just with you.

“No.” He shook his head.

You felt your heart soar.

“Wanna go lay on the couch?”

“I have to clean.”

John looked at you like you had two heads.

“I’m not making you clean after that.” He said.

You laughed and grabbed his hand taking him up on his offer. You brought his wrist up to your hand and looked at the time on his watch.

“I have one hour.”

As the two of you made your way to the couch he looked at his watch.

“Maybe I can request a deep clean, keep you here for a few more hours.”

You giggled and slapped his shoulder.

“Why? So when the other women come here next they can make fun of how horrible I did because I didn’t do anything?” You asked.

John looked like he was thinking for a moment.

“I don’t even need anyone to clean. Do you want to come over for dinner sometime?”

“Isn’t dinner supposed to come first?” You joked and he laughed.

“Usually.”

You smiled at him and nodded your head.

“Dinner and hopefully another fuck.”

John laughed and pulled you onto his lap. Then it hit you.

“Oh my god you planned this! My boss told me you requested me.” You started laughing.

John’s face turned bright red.

“I didn’t plan… that. That just happened. I was just going to ask you if you’d like dinner sometime.” He shrugged.

Not that either of you cared. The fuck was good. You laughed again and laid your head onto his chest.

“I’m glad it happened.”

He just hummed in agreement and the two of you sat like that until it was time for you to go.

#john wick x reader #john wick fanfic #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #this one’s goofy

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